


Downton's Easy Company

by penguinated



Category: Band of Brothers (TV 2001), Downton Abbey
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:22:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 53,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28657923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penguinated/pseuds/penguinated
Summary: The new generation of Downton is taking over, but just as the second world war is raging across Europe. On a cool London night, the children of the Crawleys meet the boys of the American 101st Airborne. Worlds collide and hearts are on the line.
Comments: 53
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

It shouldn’t have felt as ridiculous as it did. At least, that’s what George told himself. Lots of people spoke to their loved ones at the grave. It was the whole point of a graveyard, wasn’t it? Even so, the longer he stood and stared at that headstone engraved with “Matthew Reginald Crawley” the more he felt like a fool. 

“I feel stupid,” he admitted, speaking for the first time in almost half an hour. “Which is allowed, I suppose, when addressing one’s family.”

He took a deep breath, willing a sense of connection to enter. But how could he feel connected to a man he’d never met?

“I am in need of some courage,” he forced himself to say. “You see, I’ve got to tell Mother what I’ve done, and I’m afraid you’d be the only person who could understand the position I’m in. After all, you went to war when you were the last heir too.”

He paused for a beat.

“I’m sure you can also recognize how much harder I’ve got it than you did,” he said. “You and Mother weren’t even a couple when you went to war, and I…” he trailed off. “I’m all she has left of you.”

Heaving a sigh, he sat down. He was much too old to be sitting in the grass, he knew, but in this moment, he was only a boy, asking his father for advice. 

“It’s not just Mother, either,” he went on. “It’s Grandfather and Granny and Henry and Caroline and...everyone! Everyone is going to be opposed to this, I know it. If only you were here so you could back me up. I should hope you would.”

The headstone looked back at him, cold and expressionless as ever. 

“Could you send me a sign or something?” George asked. “Anything?”

Nothing happened.

“George?”

Startled, he whipped around at the call of his name. To his great relief, there was someone standing there. His sister.

“Caroline,” he sighed. 

“You alright?” she wondered as she got closer. She stopped in front of him. “What are you doing in the dirt?”

“Nothing,” he hurriedly replied, scrambling to his feet. 

“The new Earl of Grantham shouldn’t be sitting -”

“I’m not the new Earl of Grantham yet,” he cut across her. “Look me over. Have I ruined my trousers?”

Her eyes glanced over him. She twirled her finger, commanding him to turn. He did so. 

“There’s grass on your bum, but that’s it,” she said. 

He brushed it away and faced her again. 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” she asked again. “You look like you might be sick.”

“I’ve done something,” he told her. “And now I’ve got to tell Mother and she won’t like it. Neither will you, I expect. No one will.”

Her mouth drew down in the slightest frown as her brows came together over her eyes.

“Heavens,” she said levelly. “What have you done?”

“Let’s get home,” he said. “Better to tell everyone at once.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier for you to take us one by one?” she pointed out. “I should hate to see the dining room destroyed if it’s truly as bad as you imply.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Maybe, but I’d rather not explain myself over and over again,” he said. 

She shrugged in defeat. Then her eyes found the headstone. He watched her scan the name before he pointedly looked at his feet when she looked at him again. 

“Were you talking to him?” she asked.

“To who?”

“Don’t be daft, George,” she snapped. “Matthew. Were you talking to him?”

He met her gaze, defense blazing behind his eyes. “What if I was?”

“Don’t bite my head off,” she returned. “I just never knew you did that.”

“I did it more as a boy,” he admitted. “When I’d visit Grandma Isobel.” 

“I had no idea,” she said.

“It was our secret,” he replied. “Just us.”

He cast a sad look over to the headstone beside his father’s. It was smaller, but newer. Isobel had lived a long life, dying just five years ago. George missed her bitterly. Not that Granny - that was Cora - wasn’t wonderful to him. She was. But Isobel was a grandmother he did not have to share with the other children. They cherished that special connection. 

“It’s a shame she isn’t here to see you claim your inheritance,” Caroline said. “She’d be so proud of you.” Her eyes softened. “And so would Matthew.” 

“Well, if he were here, it’d be him, wouldn’t it?” he returned.

As soon as he said it, guilt took over. Caroline was trying - rather uncharacteristically - to be kind. George didn’t mean to shut her down, but he didn’t always trust her. Vulnerability was a weakness in her mind, and so he never showed her his own. 

“I suppose so,” she said. “Then you could be proud of him.”

“I think I would be,” he said. “But we’ll never know, will we?”

“Nope.”

“Let’s just get home.”

He began striding up the lane. Caroline hesitated, her eyes fixed on Matthew’s name. She glanced at George’s disappearing form. Shaking her head, she followed him. She jogged to catch up. 

“You know, plenty of people talk to -” she began.

“I’d rather not discuss it, thanks,” he cut across her. 

She didn’t let him see that she was stung. 

“Have it your way then,” she said with a shrug. “By the way, Uncle Tom and Sybbie are here. They arrived this morning and will be staying with us for what appears to be an undecided amount of time.”

“Mrs. Branson isn’t with them?” he asked, surprised. 

“I’m afraid not,” she answered. “Apparently they’re fighting.”

“Tom and Lucy?” he wondered. “That’s unlike them.”

“Actually, it’s Tom and Sybbie,” she explained. “Mrs. Branson got so tired of the shouting, she sent them away.”

“What do you reckon they’re fighting about?” he asked.

“I mean to corner Sybbie when we get home and find out,” Caroline said. 

George rolled his eyes. Caroline was sounding much more like herself now. 

When they reached the Abbey, Thomas was waiting by the front door. He smiled and nodded at the siblings as they crossed the threshold. He began by helping George with his coat before taking Caroline’s things. 

“Welcome home, m’lord,” Thomas said. 

“Thank you, Barrow,” George returned. 

“Is Cousin Sybil in her room?” Caroline asked. 

“She is, Miss Caroline, she said she wanted some rest before dinner,” Thomas told her.

“Right, we’ll be with her if anyone is looking for us,” she said. “Come on, George.”

She marched off toward the stairs and started a brisk jog up them. George hurried after her. Sybbie’s room - whenever she stayed at Downton - was a neighbor to Caroline’s. The latter knocked thrice upon the door and didn’t wait for an answer before opening it. 

“Sybbie, it’s us,” she announced. 

Sybbie greatly resembled her late mother, Lady Sybil. She turned and smiled warmly at her cousins, who were really more like siblings to her. They had all been close friends growing up, along with Marigold, but she was still in Paris. She was working as a reporter for Lady Edith’s magazine and had gone there for a bit of fashion research. She was still there when the German’s took the city, and no one had heard from her since. It had been almost a year now. 

“Caroline, what if she’d been changing?” George challenged. 

“She wasn’t,” she snipped. 

“Hello,” Sybbie greeted, kissing George on the cheek as she whispered, “Don’t fuss, it’s alright.” She kissed Caroline next. “I’m so glad to see you two.”

“We hear you and your father aren’t getting on,” George said. “Is everything alright?”

Sybbie sighed. “Not exactly. You see, I’ve been trying to get him to let me go and volunteer as a nurse in France, but he won’t allow it.”

“What do you need his permission for?” Caroline scoffed. “You’re a grown woman, you can do as you please.”

George and Sybbie exchanged a meaningful look, which Caroline chose to ignore. 

“It’s not that simple,” Sybbie said. “I wouldn’t want to leave on those terms and then something happen.”

“Like what?” Caroline asked. 

“Caroline, she could get killed,” George told her. “Nurses aren’t always protected.” He turned to his cousin. “Has it really come to rows and all that?”

Sybbie nodded solemnly. “I’m afraid so. He says he wants to keep me safe, and I truly understand that, especially with what’s happened with Marigold, I just...wish he could understand me a bit too.”

“All he needs to understand is that this can be done one of two ways,” Caroline said matter-of-factly. “He can support you and you can part friends, and if something happens to you, he can remember you fondly. Or he can pitch a fit and if something happens to you, he’ll live with regret for the rest of his life. It’s his choice.”

George resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Caroline was such a child, and she proved it consistently with her oversimplified version of things. But she was a girl who was accustomed to getting her way. 

Before Sybbie or George could respond, they heard the gong. They dispersed so they could all change. George had no valet, he dressed himself. Valets were few and far between these days, and he’d never really felt he needed one. So, he got dressed and then accompanied the girls downstairs. 

They entered the drawing room, where George and Caroline said hello to their uncle. Sybbie ignored her father and greeted Mary, Henry, Robert, and Cora. An underlying stiffness swept through the room as the family noticed. 

George had to get some water. The moment was upon him to tell his family. Unlike Sybbie, he had gone forward without consulting them, and tonight he would have to face the consequences. He sent up a prayer as he swallowed the water, the coolness of the liquid soothing his tumultuous stomach. He had to do it now, before dinner, or he’d never get it out. Plus, he didn’t want the servants to hear.

“Excuse me,” he said, and the small conversations stopped as all eyes turned on him. “I’ve got something I must say to you all, while we’re together as a family.”

“Golly,” Mary said. “You make it sound so serious.”

“Is it serious, Mother,” he told her.

His eyes made a round through the room, connecting to everyone. He lingered on his grandfather for a moment longer than the rest. 

“I’ve enlisted,” he said. 

A stunned silence followed. George found himself unable to look at any of them now. Their shock and disappointment was palpable. He was drowning in it already and he’d barely spoken the words. 

“You what?” Robert finally said. 

“I’ve enlisted in the 1st British Airborne,” George said. “I go to training in two weeks.” 

“You mean you’ve already signed the papers?” Robert persisted. “Without telling any of us?”

“I knew you wouldn’t approve, so -”

“Of course we wouldn’t!” Mary interjected. “You’re the heir, you’re Matthew’s son, what will we do if anything happens to you?”

“Here we go,” Caroline muttered under her breath. 

George was prepared for this reaction. His mother had raised him with the knowledge of how important he was to the future of Downton Abbey. Despite knowing it was coming, George felt a pang of guilt and sorrow at his mother’s deploring glare. 

“Hold on, what does the Airborne do?” Henry asked. “Perhaps it isn’t too dangerous.”

George’s stomach dropped. 

“They’re paratroopers,” he said. 

“What on Earth is a paratrooper?” Cora wondered. 

George heaved a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. This was the most difficult part. He had signed up for a job that was one of the furthest from safe imaginable. 

“They jump out of airplanes,” he admitted. 

He closed his eyes to the gasps and Robert’s appalled “My God!” 

“They’ve got parachutes!” George insisted. 

“Where do they jump?” Tom asked. 

“It generally works like this,” George said. “The paratroopers jump behind enemy lines and clear the way for approaching infantry. Yes, it is dangerous, but they’re the best. And I want to be with the best.”

“But can’t you wait until you’re called up?” Mary asked. “Why put yourself at risk? I’m sure we could arrange for you to have something safer, so that -”

“Look!” George asserted before anyone could argue again. “If I’m going, I don’t want to just be on the sidelines, I want to do something real.”

The unspoken subject of Marigold simmered below the surface of every word. It was possible that one of their family was already gone, even if she wasn’t blood. Now, George was on his way to danger as well. And Sybbie wanted to join them. How much could they take? 

“You are Matthew’s legacy,” Robert said. 

“And I will not tarnish that legacy by acting the coward,” George said. “He volunteered to serve his king and country and so will I.”

Another pregnant pause filled the room. 

“What about Downton?” Mary asked. 

“I’ve thought about it,” he said. “And just as my father left it to you, Mother, I have written an interim will naming Caroline as my heir.”

Caroline’s eyes turned slowly on her brother. 

“Y...you did?” she stammered. 

He nodded. “Yes. Believe it or not, I have the utmost faith that you could run this estate. But I hope you haven’t all resigned yourselves to my demise.”

“Well, we have to consider it, don’t we?” Mary snapped. “Let’s go through.”

Just like that, the conversation was over. His family’s disappointment weighed heavily on George as they exited the room and filed into the dining room. But he was sticking to his decision. In his heart, he knew it was the right thing to do. 

Caroline was the last to go. She looked at George. 

“I appreciate that,” she said. “More than you know.”

“Well, like I said,” he told her. “You’re as shrewd as our mother and your whole heart is in it. I don’t even know if mine is.”

“You don’t believe in the future of Downton?”

“There is some future for it,” he said. “But times are changing, and houses like these just aren’t the way people live their lives anymore.”

“I won’t even acknowledge that sort of pessimism with a response,” she said. “But I also meant I appreciate you telling them. For one evening, I’m finally the favorite child.”

With that, she swept out of the room. George sighed. One weight was lifted, only to be replaced by a heavier one. He would have to go on holding it up if he could. Like Sybil, he did not wish to part with his family on hostile terms. He started toward the door, but was stopped when a photo slid off the mantle and onto the carpet. It landed with a soft thud right before his feet. 

It was a portrait of Matthew. As George knelt to pick it up, he felt something stir inside his heart. A validation of sorts. He returned Matthew’s picture to its spot and as he straightened it, he felt he had won his father’s approval. He had gotten his sign at last. 

***

It had taken a few days, but the family had finally accepted his decision. The only one still angry with him was Mary, which did not surprise him. Robert was coming around. Cora was sad, but supportive. Sybbie and Tom were both behind him from the start. Henry was sort of neutral, obviously needing to back Mary, but he wasn’t cruel to George. Caroline was thrilled, relishing in what she called her “newfound favoritism.” 

George did not believe his mother had a favorite, but could never convince his sister of it. Nevertheless, she was soaking it up. 

The day at last came when it was time for him to go to training. He said his goodbyes to Cora, Robert, Sybbie, and Tom in the morning, wishing only for his immediate family to be with him at the train station. There would be lots of people there, and he didn’t want to crowd them. He promised them all that he would write as often as he could. After all, he wouldn’t be going into combat for months. 

So he stood on the platform with Mary, Henry, and Caroline, one suitcase in hand, and ready to board. Mary had softened. Her eyes were welling up with tears. She watched Henry shake hands with her son, wishing him the best. Then Caroline stood on her toes and kissed her brother’s cheek. Finally, it was only up to Mary. 

“George,” she began. “I’d like you to have this.” 

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, stuffed dog. It had no features, only the basic form. It was dirty and aged, but he recognized it from her vanity. She had never told him what it was for. 

“I gave this to Matthew before he left,” she explained. “It brought him luck, I think. So, I’m passing it on to you so it can…”

She held it out as her words trailed off. George took it deftly in his hand. 

“Thank you, Mother,” he said. 

She blinked and a tear began to descend down her left cheek. Her hand touched his arm and gave it an affectionate squeeze. She examined him and wondered when he’d gotten so tall. He resembled Matthew now more than ever. It was as if she were standing before him again. 

“Goodbye, my darling,” she choked out. “And such good luck.”

“Oh, Mother,” he sighed. 

She fell into his arms and let out one small sob. Her arms held him like chains. His heart cracked at her emotional display. It was so rare for her, so he knew whatever she was showing now, she was feeling it ten times deeper. He embraced her, pressing his lips to her forehead. 

She pulled away after a moment, drying her eyes on a handkerchief. She offered a watery smile. He blinked back his own tears threatening to escape. 

“Right, then,” George said. “I’m off.” 

He tucked the little dog into his pocket, tipped his hat to his family, and then boarded the train, just as the whistle blew. He took his seat, and out the window, he could still see them standing there on the platform. Mary blew him a kiss. He waved. His free hand came over the pocket holding his good luck charm. The train lurched forward. It chugged slowly out of the station, and then George Crawley, heir to Downton Abbey and everything that went with it, was going to war.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2 YEARS LATER

Marigold still had dreams about her time in occupied France. Her gratitude to the French Resistance had impossible depth. And now that she was home - well, in her London flat - she had a hard time feeling normal again. Even after the year and a half of being back in England. She had just woken from another such dream. She flipped the duvet off her hot legs and sat up. 

When she first returned from Paris, she’d gone straight home to Brancaster Castle to see Edith and Bertie. It was an emotional reunion. But home was not a comfort to her. So, she went to Downton Abbey, where she was once again unable to settle. Edith’s London flat, which she gave to Marigold, opened up, and she was off again. She needed to be back at work and return to life as normally as possible. She returned to the magazine, but found that it no longer fulfilled her. After seeing the effects of the Nazis first hand, she thought fashion and style so frivolous. She wanted to make a real impact. There just wasn’t much for women on the English homefront to do. 

It was frustrating. Part of her ached to forget all she’d seen, but then another wanted to affect real change. To do her part. How could she reconcile the two? They were not ideas which were easily compromised. She stared out the window onto the street. Pondering her options always felt better when she looked outside. It reminded her that was where the world was. 

Needing more than just the vision, she threw on a dress, grabbed a coat and hat, and slipped on some shoes. She needed to go for a walk. The cool, night air always soothed her. 

Her heels clicked against the pavement, but she hardly heard it. Her mind was awhirl with ideas on how to be a better participant in the war. She wasn’t cut out for nursing or anything like that, but she had some talent with a pen. She could write about more than how an outfit might look with a beret versus a pillbox hat. 

With her thoughts occupied, she was also unaware of where she was going. And the fact that other people might be standing on the sidewalk. She collided with a large figure that should have been impossible for her to miss. The impact was such that she stumbled backward, catching herself on the figure’s arm. After releasing a surprised yelp, she collected herself and took in what was before her. 

It was a man. He was American judging by his uniform and smoking a cigarette. Marigold had forgotten they were here. They were scattered throughout England, it seemed, and many of them spent the weekends they had on leave in London. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” she cried. “How terribly clumsy of me.”

“That’s alright,” he returned. “Gee, you look worried. Even for an English girl.”

She forced a laugh. “Right. We must seem dreadfully serious to you.”

Tears she could not explain welled up in her eyes. She bit her lip to fight them back, but a sniffle gave her away. 

“Hey,” the man said gently. “You alright?”

“Yes,” she lied. “Well - I just - you see -”

“Woah, woah, one sentence at a time, sweetheart,” he chuckled. 

She smiled shakily. “Ordinarily, I’d call my cousin, George, at a time like this, but he’s off in Italy somewhere. I mean, he isn’t really my cousin, I’m adopted, but we did grow up together, so our relationship is more like brother and sister and - gracious, I’m rambling now. I’m sorry. You don’t even know my name.”

He smiled at her in that friendly American way. The Yanks were so much more understanding about social slip ups, she had to credit them for that. 

“Hey, I know you got a cousin or brother or whatever he is named George,” he joked. 

She laughed in earnest. “Yes, that’s true.”

“Now we’re talkin’,” he said. “That’s some smile you got. My name’s Bill. Bill Guarnere.”

He offered his hand, which she took. 

“I’m Marigold Crawley,” she told him. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too,” he returned. “You seem to be pretty upset, though. Boyfriend troubles?”

“Oh, gosh, no, nothing like that,” she insisted. “It’s...more complicated.”

“I’ll tell you what’ll take your mind off it,” he said. “Some dancing.”

She blinked up at him, surprised. 

“Mr. Guarnere, it’s past midnight, and I’m not properly dressed -”

“Marigold, relax,” he interrupted. “First of all, it’s Sergeant Guarnere, but I prefer Bill. Second, I’m talkin’ about tomorrow. My buddies and I are gonna be at the club around the corner tomorrow night, and I’d love to see you there. You got any girlfriends you can bring?”

Marigold knew a few women from the magazine, but they were all married and settled down. The only single girls she knew were her family up north. It helped that Victoria was visiting. If Sybbie could get the time off, she would be a welcome addition as well. 

“I can look into it,” she said. “Are you sure? We’re strangers.”

“Not anymore,” he said lightly. “I know about your cousin George.”

She smiled again. “Very well. I look forward to it.”

“Yeah, me too,” he said. 

She suddenly frowned. “This isn’t a date, is it?”

He smirked and shook his head. “Nah, just a friendly invitation. I got a girl back home, you see.”

“You have?” she asked. “How sweet. Well, the friendly invitation is enthusiastically accepted. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Good,” he said. 

Before he could say anymore, a few more men stumbled out of the pub into the street. They were laughing and joking and downing beers as they walked. 

“Woah, Bill!” one cried. “Who’s your friend, here?”

“Fellas, this is Marigold,” Bill told them. “Marigold, these are some of the fellas. Let’s see, we got George Luz, Joe Toye, Buck Compton, and Floyd Talbert.”

“Good evening,” she greeted, before hastily adding “Fellas.”

She got a laugh out of that. 

“She’s gonna bring some friends to come dancing with us tomorrow,” Bill explained. 

“That’s real thoughtful of her,” Luz joked. 

“I’m not sure you’ll thank me,” she returned. “After you meet them.”

They laughed again. 

“Well, not everyone can be as sweet as you,” Bill said. “Say, you want us to walk you home? It’s late.”

“Oh, you really don’t need to -”

She was overwhelmed when all of them insisted at once. With the first giggle she’d had in months she agreed to let them walk her only to her building. They were content with that, and headed down the sidewalk with her, chattering away, asking her questions, and teasing each other. It was true that normally groups of drunk men made her uncomfortable, but there was an openness about these men that put her at ease immediately. They were honestly just...sociable and fun. She found herself excited to know more of them. 

***

The following day, Marigold called up to Downton. Thomas answered the phone of course, and she asked to speak to Victoria, the person she knew for sure would agree to come down for the weekend. Especially if it meant dancing and meeting some men. 

Victoria was the daughter of Rose and Atticus Aldridge. She had spent most of her childhood in New York, before Rose and Atticus moved back to England to be with his father in the last years of his life. They took their place as Lord and Lady Sinderby upon his death. Now, she lived with them on their estate with her parents and other grandfather, Shrimpy. 

“Hello, Marigold!” Victoria chirped. “How are you?”

“I’m alright,” Marigold answered. “Look, I was calling to invite you and Caroline and Sybbie down to London tonight. You can stay with me or Aunt Rosamund if it suits Aunt Mary better. There’s some new friends I’d like you all to meet.”

“New friends?” Victoria asked excitedly. “Who?”

“Some Americans,” Marigold said. “So, it should feel like home to you.”

Victoria chuckled. “I must admit I like the sound of that. And I think Sybbie has got the weekend off.”

Sybbie was working in the Downton village hospital as a nurse, but that was as far as she got with Tom. She still wanted more, to head into France or somewhere more in the action. But, this was the compromise. 

“Please come,” Marigold said. “I’ve promised them dance partners.”

“Dancing?!” Victoria squealed. “Oh, I’ll  _ make  _ them come, don’t you worry! We’ll be on the next train!”

Marigold smirked. Victoria was just like her mother in that she loved nothing more than a good time in swell company. And Marigold had the distinct feeling these were just the sort of men Victoria would enjoy most. 

“Very good,” Marigold said. “Call me to confirm your train, and I’ll pick you all up at the station. We’ll have dinner and then head to the club.”

“You’re. The. Best!” Victoria cried. “I can’t wait!”

In her excitement, she hung up without saying goodbye. Marigold only smiled and shook her head. 

Up at Downton, Victoria went first to the library, where Mary was writing some letters and finalizing some paperwork. Mary would be the one to convince for permission, as she could sway her father’s opinion rather easily these days.

“Cousin Mary,” Victoria began. 

“Yes, darling?” Mary returned. 

Victoria explained her whole conversation with Marigold. Caroline sat on the couch and put down her book as Victoria went on. By the end of it, she sighed irritably and set the book aside. 

“Why should we want to go and dance with a bunch of American brutes?” she said. 

“Americans aren’t brutes,” Victoria argued. “In my experience, American men are the most fun, and excellent dancers.”

“I doubt one of them knows how to waltz,” Caroline shot back. 

“Who bothers with the waltz anymore?” Victoria asked. 

“Civilized people!”

“Why do you assume they aren’t civilized?”

“They’re Americans!”

“Girls!” Mary interrupted. “Please, don’t quarrel. And Caroline, do remember your own grandmother is an American, you needn’t be such a snob. Victoria, you have my permission to go, as long as you stay with Aunt Rosamund. Unchaperoned young girls with a bunch of American soldiers is a recipe for disaster.”

Victoria shrieked with delight and threw her arms around Mary’s neck. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” she cried. “We will be on our very best behavior, Cousin Mary, I promise.”

Mary winced as Victoria kissed her cheek. Caroline groaned. 

“Mother, do I have to go?” she asked. 

“I won’t force you, but I think you should,” Mary said. “Spend some time with your cousins, it’ll be good for you.” 

Caroline groaned again, stood up, and stomped away. 

“Where are you going?” Victoria called after her. 

“To pack,” Caroline said. “Obviously.”

“Oh!” Victoria gasped. “I’m right behind you. Let me call the hospital and tell Sybbie and then call Marigold back to let her know.”

She trotted out of the room. 

“She’s going to make a fool of herself,” Caroline said. 

“Well that will entertain you if the Americans don’t,” Mary returned. 

Caroline smirked and headed upstairs. 

***

Sybbie ended up feeling dragged along. She had planned to spend her weekend catching up on letters. She wanted to write and extended one to George, but that would now have to wait. Victoria assured her she’d have the morning to write her letter. Plus, Sybbie had to admit, she was in need of a bit of fun.

Marigold was true to her word and fetched them at the station. As they headed back into town, Caroline was pouting. 

“So, who are these Americans?” she asked. “How did you meet them?”

“On the street,” Marigold told her, and launched into the story of her introduction to Bill Guarnere and the men with him. 

“That’s ridiculous,” Caroline snapped. 

“I think it’s romantic,” Victoria said. “Just think, one of us may meet our future husband tonight.”

“You’ve seen too many films,” Caroline said, rolling her eyes. 

“And you need to lighten up,” Sybbie said. “You don’t have to be totally dignified all the time.”

Caroline only huffed and turned up her nose to look out the window. 

They all brought their things to Aunt Rosamund’s. She was happy to have the company, and dinner was nearly ready when they arrived, but they had time to change. After dinner, the girls put on their coats, and headed out for their night. 

They took a cab to the club. Marigold tipped the driver, and then they all scrambled out. Against some of their better judgement, they were buzzing. Before they went through the door, Sybbie stopped them. 

“Okay, girls, some rules,” she said. “We all stick together and look out for each other. And all of us go home to Aunt Rosamund’s together. No exceptions.” 

They all nodded. Sybbie returned it, and then they marched inside. 

The jazz music was swinging as the girls came in, so loud and upbeat, the walls might have been shaking. The smell of cigarettes and alcohol created a dense haze, like walking into a dream. Marigold stood on her toes and looked anxiously around for any familiar faces. Luckily, Buck - tall and handsome as he was - stuck out. 

“This way!” Marigold yelled over the din.

The girls all pushed their way through the crowd toward the table where Marigold’s new friends were seated. Bill gave an excited shout at the sight of her, and hugged her familiarly. 

“Who’ve you got with ya?” he asked. 

“These are my cousins!” she told him, and she pointed to each as she introduced them. “That’s Sybil, Victoria, and Caroline!”

“Nice to meet you ladies,” Bill returned. “Come on, take a seat, get to know the guys.”

He introduced everyone, but the music was too loud and he moved too fast for the girls to retain many of the names. They took seats while a couple of the men dashed off to get them drinks. 

“How can they get us drinks if they don’t know what we want?” Caroline asked.

“Don’t be such a snob,” Sybbie returned. 

Before they knew it, they each had a beer. Sybbie, Marigold, and Victoria thanked them kindly. Caroline wrinkled her nose. 

“So, which branch are you lot in?” Sybbie asked the men. 

“The Airborne,” Buck answered. “We’re paratroopers.”

“Cousin George is a paratrooper,” Marigold said. “How funny!”

Victoria was just taking a sip of her beer when one of the men - Joe Liebgott - tapped her on the shoulder. 

“You wanna dance, gorgeous?” he offered. 

He held out his hand and she beamed as she took it. 

“Very much!” she told him. 

He led her, giggling, out onto the dance floor. The song was a driving, jive tempo, allowing for a lot of fun. Joe led her through her favorite steps, making her laugh with joy. That smile, that laugh, made his heart skip a beat. He was out of breath too, but he attributed that to the dancing. Mostly.

The next song slowed it down, but neither of them wanted to return to the table. So, they stood close together, Victoria feeling girlish and shy in his arms, and began to sway. With their faces within inches of each other, it was much easier to hear what they were saying. 

“So, Victoria, you don’t sound totally English,” he said. 

“I spent much of my childhood in New York,” she told him. “Where are you from?”

“San Francisco,” he said. “You ever been to California?”

She shook her head. “I haven’t, but I’d so like to see it one day. Is it beautiful there?”

“It is,” he said. “But I gotta say, the view from where I’m standing beats it.”

She flushed and grinned, her eyes lowering. It was then he noticed a delicate necklace that hung around her pale neck. It was gold, but the end of it was tucked underneath the collar of her shirt. 

“What’s that?” he asked, nodding toward it. 

She came to a stop and pulled it out. It sparkled in the light, and Joe was surprised by what he saw. 

“It’s my Star of David,” she said. “I’ve worn it since I was a girl. It was a gift from my grandfather, Lord Sinderby.” 

“You’re Jewish?”

She nodded. “Mhm.”

A grin spread slowly across his face. “This really must be my lucky day. So am I.”

“It’s both our lucky day,” she returned. 

Both delighted, they continued to dance. 

Marigold was now dancing with Bill, and Sybbie had found a partner in Private Don Malarkey. The tempo picked up again. Caroline continued to sulk in her seat. She never released her proud demeanor, sitting with her legs crossed and arms folded over her chest. She refused to look at anyone or touch her drink. 

The downside to this was that Caroline quickly grew bored. She got warm too with all the movement around her, so she decided to step outside. Her cousins would clearly not miss her, and neither would these strangers. So she stood up and began to force her way back through the crowd toward the door. Until she was stopped by a large man in a different uniform than the ones they were with. 

“You lost, little lady?” he asked in the most unfriendly way imaginable. 

Caroline did not scare easily. She looked him dead in the eye. 

“No,” she said stiffly. “I’m just on my way outside. Excuse me.”

She moved to step around him, but he blocked her. 

“What’s outside?” he pressed. 

“Not you, for one thing,” she snapped. “Get out of my way.”

“You’re awfully pretty to have such an attitude,” he said. “Come on, one dance.”

He reached for her hand but she snatched it away, glowering up at him with the fury of a lioness. 

“Keep your hands to yourself,” she warned. 

“You’re feisty,” he said. “I love that in a woman.”

He tried to grab her again, and she stepped back, dodging him once more. 

“Enough!” she cried. “I will not be intimidated by some ill-mannered barbarian! Let. Me. By. Now!”

He only made a gruff noise at her and made another try for her arm. Only this time, he was met with another man taking hold of his wrist. Caroline turned her head and saw the new arrival - he was tall, with chocolate brown hair parted neatly but falling around his face. His uniform bore the same eagle that the lads Marigold met had. 

“The lady asked you nicely once,” he said. “Let her pass.”

“Mind your business,” the first man retorted. “I don’t take orders from the Airborne.”

“Look, do you want her to dance with you because she’s being bullied or do you want her to dance with you because she wants to?” the second pointed out. “She said no.”

“And I said mind your business,” the first spat back. 

“Well, if you’ve got a problem, I’d be happy to settle it outside,” the second said quietly, but with the authority of a king. 

Caroline could tell by his demeanor that this was not a man to be crossed. There was a cold air about him that made her shiver as if he were a chilly gust of wind. 

The first man wrenched his hand away. 

“No,” he said. “No problem.”

He walked away with his metaphorical tail between his legs. Caroline scowled. 

“I don’t need anyone’s protection,” she said sharply. 

She turned on her heel and headed for the door again. The second man followed her, but not as if he were pursuing her. Even so, it rubbed her the wrong way. When they stepped outside, she whipped around to face him. 

“What do you want?” she demanded. 

“I’m just coming outside,” he said, and for some absurd reason, she felt like he was making fun of her. “Of my own volition.”

“Don’t expect a thank you for what you did back there,” she said. 

“I didn’t ask for one,” he returned. 

She frowned and crossed her arms. 

“Cigarette?” he offered, holding out a pack of Lucky Strikes to her. 

She glanced between the cigarette and his face. 

“No, thank you, I’m a lady,” she said. 

He scoffed. “Lots of ladies smoke.”

“I doubt very much that you know any real ladies at all.” 

He shot her a knowing smirk which irritated her more than she wanted to admit. The flame from his lighter made his face glow for a split second as he lit his cigarette. 

“Yeah, probably not,” he said with a shrug, taking a drag. 

She resisted a brutal urge to stamp her foot. 

“Oh, just leave me alone, will you?” she said. 

“You got it,  _ princess _ .”

She gaped at him. She thought she saw the corners of his mouth turn up at her indignation.

“My  _ name _ is Caroline,” she said sharply. “And I won’t stand to be disparaged.” 

He only shrugged. 

“Oh, you’re insufferable,” she told him. “I’m going back in.” 

He didn’t answer that. He didn’t even watch her go. But halfway to the door she turned to face him again. 

“What’s your name?” she asked. “So I can be sure to avoid you in the future.”

“Speirs,” he said. “Lieutenant Speirs.”


	3. Chapter 3

_ Dear George, _

_ Believe it or not, I’ve met some fascinating men. Myself, Marigold, Victoria, and (just barely) Caroline, served the Allied cause by dancing with some American paratroopers. They’re very much like English paratroopers, but with less regard for formality. I liked that about them, though. Who knows? Perhaps you will meet them wherever they’re going. I believe something big is planned, but of course, I don’t know what.  _

_ I’m in London for the weekend, taking some time off. Not that I need it. The work at the hospital in Downton is mostly rehabilitation, and while rewarding, is not challenging me like I’d like to be challenged. I want to know the satisfaction of a real hard day’s work. I want to be in the thick of it all. I hope it doesn’t sound selfish of me to say it, considering what you must be going through.  _

_ Speaking of which, I have seen the effects of combat on the men I’ve treated, and I do hope you’re taking care of yourself. Being a captain should have its privileges right? Perhaps you can come home soon. You and your soldiers are the ones truly in need of a respite.  _

_ We all miss you. But I am confident I miss you more than everyone else (haha!). No one understands my need to be useful as you do. It’s why you went to war at all. Marigold shows some sign of understanding, but she doesn’t speak much on the subject. In fact, I often find her staring off into the distance, like she’s seeing something the rest of us cannot. She is rather unfocused and quiet lately. But not in the reserved way I’m familiar with. There is a sort of meekness about her now that has not been shaken since she returned from Paris. Yet another reason I wish you were here. I know you and I could draw it out of her together.  _

_ She did seem to enjoy herself during the dancing, though. For most of the night, she was the same old Marigold. I haven’t seen her this morning, but fingers crossed there is some improvement.  _

_ As is custom, here is my list of questions for you: _

_ What is the weather like where you are? Will you be coming back to us looking more like a Spaniard than an Englishman? _

_ How are your friends? You’ve mentioned some men in your letters. Are they good company or do they make you miss your darling cousins? _

_ Are you well? This one is a given, since war is the most unpredictable event in our world.  _

_ Is there any chance of you coming home soon? _

_ Sending all my love and good wishes,  _

_ Your cousin - _

“Sybbie!”

Caroline’s voice floated from the doorway. Sybbie turned around from her seat at the desk. 

“Are you coming down to breakfast?” Caroline asked. 

“Yes, just a moment,” Sybbie said. “I’m finishing up writing to George. I told him about our fun last night.”

Caroline scoffed. “Your fun maybe.”

“Don’t tell me that Speirs man is still bothering you.”

“It wouldn’t bother me if not for the impertinence of it.”

“I’m sure you and he have very different definitions of impertinent.”

Sybbie smirked as Caroline rolled her eyes. The former stood up, folded her letter, and stuck it in an envelope which she had already addressed. She would take it to the post office today after breakfast.

She and Caroline headed downstairs. Luckily, Rosamund had thought to have her cook prepare coffee, which Sybbie and Victoria preferred to tea. Caroline and Marigold were more traditional in that regard, but that was about the only thing they agreed on. 

“So,” Rosamund began as they all took their seats. “Did you all have a good time? Nothing scandalous, I hope.”

“Aunt Rosamund, we were all on our best behavior, don’t worry,” Sybbie assured her. “It was all in good fun.”

“I had a marvellous time,” Victoria practically swooned. “I met the sweetest man, a Corporal Liebgott, and we danced together the whole night.”

“You needn’t be so dreamy about it, he isn’t staying,” Caroline said harshly as she buttered her toast. “Besides, he’s far below your station.”

“Oh, how would you know?” Victoria returned. “You didn’t speak to anyone.”

“What did he do before he joined the Army?” Caroline asked, ignoring the jab. 

Victoria’s face flushed and she looked at her plate. “He was a cab driver.”

Caroline snorted. “That’s to be expected. Gracious, Victoria. Your younger brother is going to be Lord Sinderby one day and you think he’ll be proud to announce his sister’s lowering herself like that?”

“Hey,” Sybbie snapped. “My mother was proud of her chauffeur husband, no matter what her family thought.”

“Thank you, Sybbie,” Victoria said. 

“Besides, Caroline, times are changing,” Marigold pointed out. “People aren’t living like our parents and grandparents anymore. And why should they?”

“Because it’s tradition,” Caroline said. “And a noble blooded English girl shouldn’t be bothering with some American nobody.”

“Listen to you all,” Rosamund interrupted. “Talking as if she’s already engaged. I admit, I don’t think he’s a man you should take seriously, but by all means dance with him if it amuses you. Just don’t take things too far or you’ll end up like poor Edith.”

Marigold froze as a silence fell over the table. Caroline seemed to be the only one unperturbed. 

“You mean, Marchioness of Hexom?” Victoria asked innocently. 

Some color drained out of Rosamund’s face. “I just - I don’t mean Bertie - of course - um -” she sputtered and then collected herself. “It’s nothing you all need to concern yourselves with.”

She said no more and returned her focus to her food. Marigold’s brow furrowed. She had never heard anyone refer to Edith as “poor Edith” before and wondered who Rosamund might be talking about if not Bertie Pelham. Another story popped up from Marigold’s memory. 

“You mean being jilted at the altar?” she asked. 

“Aunt Edith was jilted at the altar?” Sybbie gasped. 

“Yes,” Rosamund said quickly. “Yes, that’s precisely what I mean.”

“Hold on, when did this happen?” Caroline wondered. 

“I’ll tell you later,” Marigold said. 

It was clear that Rosamund was uncomfortable, which gave Marigold the impression her great aunt was not being entirely truthful. 

“Will you be seeing the Americans again?” Rosamund asked. 

“Yes, Bill has asked us to join them tonight as well,” Marigold answered. “But they’ll be returning to Albourne in the morning.”

Caroline groaned and her cousins stifled some laughter. 

***

Joe Liebgott was in need of a smoke and a long walk. The streets of London were a good place for both. And so, puffing on a cigarette, he strolled. While his body moved robotically, his mind was consumed with Victoria. She was probably the most beautiful woman he’d ever met, and he could hardly believe she’d agreed to dance with him. Let alone, spend basically the entire night with him. He knew he liked her because he was usually a person who was sure of himself. She made him feel clumsy and uncertain. But in a good way. 

He’d hardly slept thinking of her. The only thing that made him hesitate was that she mentioned that her grandfather was a lord. He didn’t know much about the English class system, but he was pretty sure that put her way out of his league. He just hoped that stuff didn’t matter as much as it used to. 

He was so wrapped up, it seemed that every blonde young woman he saw might be her. But he was sure that was wishful thinking. Until...there she really was, looking stylish and elegant in her day dress and hat. He knew it was real because Sybbie was beside her. They were emerging from the post office. 

He caught her eye as she turned her head, and his heart grew warm at the sight of her beaming at him. He offered a shy wave, which she returned. Confident he was welcome, he walked over. 

“Hey, Victoria,” he said. 

“Joe,” she returned with a friendly nod. “Fancy meeting you here.”

He chuckled, still reeling at the way his name sounded coming from her lips. 

“What are you up to?” he asked. 

“I’ve got some errands to run here in town before we head back up north,” she said. “And Sybbie had to post a letter to Cousin George.”

“Are you all coming out again tonight?” he wondered. 

“We are,” she told him. “Will you be there?”

“‘Course I will,” he assured her. 

“Are you going to keep her all to yourself again?” Sybbie interjected, teasing. 

Pink rose to Victoria’s cheeks, but Joe played it cool. 

“Yeah, if she’ll let me,” he said. 

“I think she will,” Sybbie said. “She wouldn’t shut up about you at breakfast.”

“Sybbie!” Victoria hissed, playfully smacking her cousin’s arm. 

Joe was flattered. So, Victoria liked him. He hoped it was as much as he liked her. 

“So, you ladies need an escort for your errands?” he offered. 

“Oh, it’s silly things like dress shopping,” Victoria said. “I wouldn’t want to bore you.”

“Not at all!” he replied. 

“Are you sure?” she pressed. 

“Absolutely,” he said. “I can give you a man’s perspective.”

She smiled at that and then looked at Sybbie. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“Actually, I’ve got some things to take care of back at Aunt Rosamund’s,” Sybbie said. “You two go ahead.”

Victoria stifled the squeal of delight she was desperate to release. She made a mental note to thank Sybbie profusely, and repay her somehow for giving her this opportunity. 

“Alright, then,” Victoria said. “I’ll see you back at Aunt Rosamund’s.”

“See you there,” Sybbie replied. “And before dinner.”

She shot a stern look in Joe’s direction. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll have her back in time, safe and sound,” he promised. 

“Very well,” Sybbie said. “See you later!”

She waved and headed off. Victoria faced Joe. 

“I suppose we should go,” she said. 

“Lead the way,” he told her. 

He offered his arm, which she took, and they made their way down the street. 

A few streets over, Marigold was going into the office. Even though it was the weekend, there were some things she wanted to finalize before the new edition went out on Monday. Marigold had inherited Edith’s job as manager of the magazine. Edith was too busy to keep it up with her duties as Lady Hexom, and Marigold asked if she could take it on. She wanted to be a working woman, since she would never be what Caroline, Victoria, and Sybbie were. Real ladies by birth. 

As she looked over the new edition, she found herself ashamed. How could she put out a whole publication without addressing what was going on in the world? It felt tone deaf. It was too late to change anything, so she had to let it go. Besides, she wasn’t even sure what she could change things to. Defeated, she left. 

She caught the lift right before it closed, thanks to the kindness of a red-headed American officer. She thanked him quietly as the doors shut. The eagle on his shirt stuck out to her, and she wondered if he knew any of the men she had already met. Though there seemed to be an infinite number of paratroopers. She decided not to bother. 

Suddenly, the lights flickered. The lift trembled and screeched to a halt. It lurched, causing Marigold to lose her balance and tumble into the wall. The man was similarly thrown, but gripped the side railings before he fully went down. Marigold was not so lucky and found herself on her backside, embarrassed and shaken. 

“Let me help you,” the man said, offering his hand. 

“Thank you,” she replied, taking it. 

He lifted her off the floor. Once she was firmly on two feet again, she looked at the doors. They were still shut. 

“Oh no,” she said. “I think we’re in between floors.”

“I would guess so since elevators don’t normally stop like this,” he said. 

Panicked, she stepped forward and banged her fist against the steel. 

“Hello!” she shouted. “Hello! Is anyone there?! Hello!”

There was no answer. 

“My guess is that on the other side of those doors is brick,” the man said. 

Marigold sighed. “Well, let’s try the emergency phone. It can be used to contact any of the offices in the building.”

“Are any of them open?” he asked. 

“Could be,” she said. “I showed up on a weekend, who’s to say no one else had the idea?”

She picked up the phone and tried each floor. Nothing. She groaned with frustration and hung up the receiver with a bit more force than she intended. 

“Weren’t you somewhere in the building?” she asked. “Who were they and how did they leave so quickly?”

The man shook his head. “Unfortunately this is my first time in London. I had a meeting, but I was leaving here because I had mistaken the address.” 

“I’m afraid you’ll be missing that,” she told him. 

“‘Fraid so,” he agreed.

A moment of silence hung between them as they each pondered the next course of action. The truth of the matter was there was nothing to be done until someone came into the building and noticed. 

Marigold looked at the man. He was handsome in a non-traditional way, but he had a strong jaw and beautiful blue eyes. His auburn hair suited his fair skin. 

“So, you’re in the Airborne, are you?” she asked, making conversation. 

“Yep, 101st,” he replied. “How’d you know?”

“The eagle,” she said. “I got to know some men from the 101st last night, actually. Great lads.”

He smiled for a fleeting moment. “Yeah, they really are.”

“Which company are you in?” she wondered.

“Easy Company, 506th,” he said. 

Her jaw dropped. “Well, then you must know the men I met!”

She rattled off the list of names she could remember, which led her to telling him about her introduction to Bill. 

“I don’t recall seeing you there,” she told him. “I think I’d remember you.”

The words had just spilled out of her mouth, she hadn’t meant to say them. But they were out now and she could not pull them back. She was also confined to the space so she could not escape either. 

“I’m not really much of a dancer,” he said, and she let out a breath of relief at him letting her off the hook. “Plus, I’m an officer, so I wouldn’t want the men to feel like they can’t be themselves.”

“There were plenty of officers there,” she said. “Lieutenant Compton I remember, I danced with him. And there was that Speirs fellow who upset my cousin Caroline.”

He blinked. “I hope he wasn’t rude. He’s in another company, so -”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Marigold said. “He was only rude by Caroline’s standards. He actually did her a favor.”

“Well, it’s a relief to know he only offended her because of her,” he joked. 

She grinned. They fell silent again. 

“I’m Dick, by the way,” he said. “Dick Winters.”

He held out his hand, and she shook it. 

“I’m Marigold Crawley,” she told him. “It’s lovely to meet you.”

“I wish it were under better circumstances,” he said. 

“Agreed,” she laughed. 

“So…” he began. “Are you related to the Crawleys of Yorkshire by any chance? Isn’t there an earl with the surname Crawley?”

She blinked, surprised. “Yes, as a matter of fact. How did you know?”

“I did some reading on the major families of the English aristocracy,” he told her. “I thought it’d be good to understand how things work over here before we arrived.”

“How clever of you,” she said. “But don’t fret about the connection. Lord and Lady Grantham adopted me as a little girl, so I’m not a Crawley by blood.”

“So you grew up with them?” 

“I spent the first part of my childhood in the nursery at Downton Abbey,” she said. “But Lord Grantham’s daughter, Lady Edith, had a particular interest in me, so when she married the Marquis of Hexom, I moved to Brancaster Castle in Northumberland.”

“That’s quite the upbringing,” he said. 

“Perhaps,” she shrugged. “I mean, all the money in the world isn’t a replacement for one’s family.”

They went on like this for hours. Eventually, they both ended up sitting down, their backs against the wall farthest from the door. She learned he was from Pennsylvania, he had a sister, and his family was close. He listened intently when she spoke of her cousins, including George being off to fight already. Dick envied him a little. She reminded him he would be lucky if he never did see combat. 

He was especially interested in her time in Paris, when she helped the French Resistance until she could get back to England. Her courage impressed him. As did her smile, but he couldn’t focus on that. 

Marigold expressed her frustrations to him. Everything she felt as she went into the office that day, and what she wished she could do. Write about what really matters. 

“The trouble is our target audience isn’t particularly interested in war news,” she said. “And we wouldn’t have the credibility to ask for interviews from the important people. So I don’t see how we can switch gears. Not that I’m even certain we should.”

“Well, you’re still into style and beauty, right?” he asked. 

“Yes,” she said. 

“But you care about the war too?”

“Yes.”

“Do you really think you’re the only woman in England who feels that way?” he challenged. 

She was stunned by the point. “Well...no, I suppose not.”

“You could always start small,” he said. “One column on history first. That information can be found in any library. And once you build up the knowledge part, you’ll have your credibility. And if more of the people reading your magazine are informed about how we got here, they’ll be more interested in what is happening now.”

She opened and closed her mouth for a moment. 

“Lieutenant Winters, you’re a genius,” she said. 

He chuckled. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“I would,” she insisted. “I feel like such a fool! How could I not have seen it that way before?”

“It’s more of an undertaking if all you’re seeing is the big picture,” he said. “The smaller parts matter too.”

“Thank you so much,” she said. “Really.”

“No problem,” he said. “Good luck with all of it.”

She heaved another sigh. “If we ever get out of here, I’ll appreciate that more.”

“Yeah, it would be a shame if I came all this way just to die in an elevator.”

Marigold burst out laughing. She couldn’t say why an offhand remark like that got to her so much, but it did. Perhaps she was just submitting to the helplessness of it all. When Dick joined in her amusement, she found a whole new reason to smile. 

“You know, Dick,” she said, wiping her eyes. “Despite the lift situation, I will say this. I’m quite glad I came into the office today. I hope it isn’t too bold of me to say.”

“Not if you don’t mind me saying I’m glad I got the address wrong and missed my meeting,” he returned. 

“Not in the least,” she said. 

“Besides, I’m American,” he reminded her. “We like bold.”

She cleared her throat as her stomach twisted with nerves.

“In the spirit of boldness,” she said. “Would I be pushing my luck if I told you I wish you’d come dancing tonight?”

He gazed into her eyes and found himself unable to deny her. 

“If you want me to come, I’ll come,” he said. “Though I warn you, I wasn’t being modest earlier, I’m not much of a dancer.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” she replied. “Now, if only we could get out of this damn lift!”

They both laughed again. 


	4. Chapter 4

When Marigold did not arrive for dinner, the girls became worried. They went to her flat, but found her absent from there as well. Caroline remembered the mention of going into the office, so they headed there next. They found Marigold and Dick stranded in the elevator and got the fire department there to help. Upon their rescue, Marigold looked at her companion. 

“You will still come tonight, won’t you?” she asked. 

“Of course,” he said. “I promised.”

She was satisfied, and went with her family back to Aunt Rosamund’s. Rosamund fussed over her, but Marigold put her off, assuring that she was just fine, and fully prepared to go out again tonight. They had a rather late dinner due to the fiasco, but the girls recovered well. 

***

“I’m sorry, you’re  _ what? _ ” Nixon questioned in disbelief. 

“I’m going dancing,” Dick replied. 

“With a woman?” Nix continued. “A real woman?”

“I could hardly dance with a fictional one,” Dick said. 

“Is this a date?”

Dick’s cheeks flushed. True, he had only known Marigold for a few hours, but they were quality, uninterrupted hours. Enough for him to know that he liked her. He had never known that feeling before, so its newness was evidence enough that it was real. 

“I guess so,” he said. “We never really discussed the terms.”

“You must have lost significant amounts of oxygen,” Nix said. “You’re gone one afternoon and you come back to tell me you have a date. Christ, you think you know a guy.”

“You wanna come?”

“On your date?”

Dick rolled his eyes. “To the club. Could be fun.”

“Well, someone’s gotta keep an eye on you,” Nix teased. “If I leave you alone again, you might come back married.”

Dick only laughed.

***

The second evening was quite as successful as the first. The girls all enjoyed themselves immensely. Even Caroline was eventually coaxed away from the table by Nixon, who did, in fact, know how to waltz. 

During a slower song, Marigold and Dick danced together, both nervous despite their prolonged proximity to each other earlier in the day. Dick’s mind ran with things he could ask her about, but he didn’t want to seem presumptuous. 

“So, how did an earl’s daughter end up with a magazine?” he decided on. 

“I’m not sure,” she answered. “Lady Edith was the last of her sisters to get married, so I always assumed she did it to occupy herself. She was almost an old maid, actually. I suppose that was her attachment to me as well. The others had children, and I was the odd one out, so we were drawn to each other.”

“I wonder why they chose you,” he said. 

“You know, I’ve never asked them,” she replied. “I guess I was afraid of what the answer might be.”

“Why afraid?” he wondered.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “But there was always some anxiety around it for me. Like the answer wouldn’t be what I want to hear. Or even something devastating.” 

“Do you think you’ll ever ask?”

“Maybe one day,” she said. “But for now, I’m happy with the way things are.”

“Who knows?” he said. “Maybe you’ll learn something in your research.”

She chuckled. “I doubt very much that war research would lead me to family mysteries.”

Across the dance floor, Joe and Victoria were similarly occupied. Her eyes were closed as her cheek rested against his chest and she let the music take over her. The moment felt like one out of a movie. For a second, she wished she was Rita Hayworth instead of Victoria Aldridge. Despite her protests, Caroline’s words had affected her. She didn’t want to get hurt, and she especially did not want Joe to be either. 

But then she remembered Rosamund’s words too. She was young and she could enjoy herself. 

“Tell me more about San Francisco,” she whispered. 

“Well, it’s not always warm like Los Angeles,” he said. “But I think that makes it all the better.”

“Is that so?” she returned. 

“Yeah,” he said. “It can get windy and cold. But in the right company, you probably won’t even feel it.”

She smiled and hummed contentedly. “I suppose with someone special to hold, the chill means very little.”

“I definitely don’t feel one now,” he remarked. 

“Me neither,” she agreed. 

They locked eyes. Tension passed between them. An electric, powerful force which pulled them closer than their bodies. 

And then Joe was leaning forward. With each centimeter, his eyes fell closed, and Victoria’s matched. She braced herself for the feeling of his lips on hers, which was as pleasant as she could imagine. What she was not prepared for was the way her heart exploded with joy. Her ribcage could barely contain it. It seemed to need to leap from within her and into Joe’s hands, where it could settle. 

When he pulled away, she ached for the contact again already. Even so, she beamed. Her cheeks hurt, which made her wonder if she’d smiled through the whole kiss. But Joe appeared equally dazed with happiness. Giggling together, they continued dancing. 

At the table, Caroline and Sybbie watched Joe and Victoria kiss. Sybbie smiled fondly, but Caroline scoffed. 

“I knew she’d make a fool of herself,” she said. 

“What’s foolish?” Sybbie returned. “She likes him, he makes her happy.”

“She’s too good for him,” Caroline insisted. 

“How do you even know?” Sybbie challenged. “You’ve never spoken to him.”

“I know because of who she is and who he is,” Caroline said. “It’ll never work between them. What’s she going to do? Go live in California?”

“Maybe she will!” Sybbie said. “She’s under no obligations here. Her brother is the heir, and since he’s too young to go to war, he’ll almost certainly live to claim that title. What’s that got to do with her?”

“I’m only saying she could do better for herself,” Caroline said. “She’s got the best line out of all of us.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sybbie wondered.

“Look at what our fathers do,” Caroline pointed out. “You and I are the daughters of car salesmen. They only have their positions in society because of their marriages. And Marigold is an orphan. Victoria is an honest to God lord’s daughter. Her chances are limitless.”

“You’re the only one puttnig a limit on them,” Sybbie said. “And with that thinking, you’re putting a limit on yourself too. You’re too young to be so cynical.”

“I’m being realistic,” Caroline said firmly. “The rest of you are the ones romanticizing everything.”

Sybbie leaned over the table so that she would not be overheard. 

“Listen,” she snapped. “I’m not romanticizing anything. I’m a nurse. I know that a large percentage of these men will go into France or Italy and they will never see home again. I am being kind and supportive because the least we can do is send them off with a pleasant memory before they meet what will likely be a very cruel fate, even if they live. So don’t talk to me like I don’t understand the world. I understand it far better than you.”

Caroline blinked before hardening further. 

“Marriages are still important to-”

“Caroline, will you open your eyes?!” Sybbie cut across her. “Odds are, a marriage between Joe and Victoria is not something we will  _ ever _ have to worry about. So just let her enjoy this.”

Caroline looked away, silenced. Inwardly, she felt a little ashamed. She had not considered the fact that men like Joe and the rest of the 101st were at just as much risk as her own brother. The odds were not in George’s favor any more than theirs. She crossed her arms to mask her feeling of naivete. She said no more to Sybbie. 

Sybbie was fuming. She didn’t like to be harsh, but Caroline could be so ignorant that it was insufferable. She also knew she’d angered Caroline by calling her out, but it had to be done. The reality was what it was. And someone had to point that out to her eventually. She was just glad she could say it without Victoria there to hear. 

Eugene Roe, who Sybbie had bonded with, asked her to dance as the next song began. She accepted, and they left, leaving Caroline on her own again. 

“Your friend is right,” said a familiar, yet infuriating voice. 

Caroline turned around and saw Speirs now in Sybbie’s seat. 

“She’s my cousin, and it’s rude to eavesdrop,” Caroline returned. 

“I was at the next table, so it wasn’t intentional,” he said. “But she is right. The truth is, every man in this room is already dead.”

She glowered at him. “That’s the most depressing thing I’ve ever heard.”

“I thought you wanted to be realistic,” he returned. 

“Realistic and hopeless are not the same.”

He smirked. “Soldiers have no use for hope. You hold on to hope and you’ll lose your focus.”

“I am not a soldier,” she reminded him. “And those of us who care for you have every need for hope.”

“You’re beginning to sound downright sentimental,” he said.

“I have a brother fighting in Italy,” she told him. “I will not doom him because of some American’s sick idea of pragmatism.” 

He didn’t let her know, but guilt took him over for a fleeting moment. 

“There’s nothing wrong with being pragmatic,” he said. 

“But you aren’t,” she shot back. “You’ve just given up.”

He liked that she challenged him. Almost as much as he liked challenging her. That fierceness about her made him attracted to her in a way that bothered him. But not enough that he wouldn’t explore it. He was curious about who she was, and what part of English society exactly that she belonged to. What made him and his comrades so far beneath her that she wouldn’t dance with them unless it was a waltz. 

“So, what does your brother do?” he asked. 

She looked at him, bewildered. “What?”

“In Italy?” he pressed. “What’s he doing there?”

“He’s a paratrooper in the 1st British Airborne,” she said. “He’s clearing the way for you lot, I expect.”

“I doubt we’ll go to Italy,” he said. 

“Well, there are Englishmen in France too,” she replied. “Holding the line until you all find your way there. If you aren’t too busy dancing with their women.”

He actually chuckled at that, and she frowned. 

“Have I amused you?” she asked. 

“You have,” he said. 

“How clumsy of me,” she returned. “I meant to insult you.”

“Hey, I’m not dancing with anyone, princess.”

White hot anger roiled in her stomach. It was unbearable enough that she got to her feet. He raised his eyebrow, questioning. 

“I’m not offering,” she spat. “I’m leaving.”

She snatched her coat off the back of her chair, wrapped it around herself, and marched outside. She would get a cab back to Aunt Rosamund’s but she was done with these Americans, especially Lieutenant Speirs. And she could not wait for her cousins to finish with their fun. 

The cold bit at her cheeks as she emerged from the club, tugging her gloves on. She looked around on the empty street, which was exactly the trouble. She didn’t know how to get a cab. 

Just when she was going to eat her pride and go back in, a black Rolls-Royce came around the corner. It slowed to a stop in front of her. She grew nervous. She didn’t know enough people in London to feel comfortable with a random car blocking the road. The window rolled down and revealed a familiar, handsome face. 

“Edward Foyle?” she gasped. 

He smiled that crooked, charming grin of his. “It cannot be Caroline Talbot, can it?”

“It is,” she said gratefully. 

“You’re prettier than I remember,” he said, making her cheeks turn a deeper shade of pink. “Are you alright?”

“I could use a lift to my Aunt Rosamund’s, actually,” she told him. “Do you know how I can find a cab?”

He scrunched up his face. “Forget that, I’ll give you a ride.”

She bit her lip to stop the smirk and make herself appear more humble. But she had gotten precisely what she wanted.

“Are you certain?” she asked. “I don’t want to put you out.”

“I’m happy to help a damsel in distress,” he said. “Here.”

She tried not to show her displeasure at being referred to as a “damsel in distress” as he climbed out of the car and opened the door for her. She thanked him coolly as she slid into the seat. He got in beside her and closed the door. He told the driver the address.

“Shouldn’t your chauffeur have done that?” she asked. 

“You are quite the stickler, aren’t you?” he teased. 

She was in no mood to be teased, but she didn’t want to offend him, so she only shrugged. 

“What are you doing in London?” she wondered. “Shouldn’t you be off fighting somewhere?”

He shook his head. “Not me. I’ve got a heart murmur, which means I cannot enlist, sadly. What are  _ you _ doing in London?”

“Bonding with my cousins,” she said bitterly. “They’re entertaining some Americans.”

“The good ol’ Yanks,” he joked. “You’re not as charitable, then?”

“I just don’t see the point,” she said. “Sybbie is -”

“Ah, Miss Sybil Branson,” he sighed, interrupting. “The beauty of Downton Abbey. How is she?”

Caroline soured. “She’s fine.”

“Is she engaged or anything?” he asked. 

“No,” she replied. “Though she seems fond of the Americans.”

“She must get her eccentric taste from her mother,” he said. 

She ignored the jab at Uncle Tom. He was so much more than a chauffeur now, and he fit in very well. Besides, he was married to an heiress and had his own house in his own right. 

“Cousin Marigold and Cousin Victoria are here as well,” she said to change the subject. 

“Victoria Aldridge?” he asked. 

She nodded. “The very one.”

He let out a low whistle. “Now there's beauty.”

Caroline forced her face to appear blank as she stared out the window. She wondered if she would always be passed over. Would she ever come first to someone? She was second in her mother’s eyes, and now among eligible men, she was unnoticeable compared to her fair cousins. 

Edward continued to talk all the way to Rosamund’s. Caroline listened intently, as she was taught to do in such situations. They finally arrived at the house. 

“Thank you again, for the ride,” she said. “I’ll have to repay you somehow.”

“It’s no trouble,” he assured her. “Any display of gratitude I will consider an added bonus.”

The chauffeur had gotten out and walked around, opening the door. 

“I hope we meet again soon,” she told him. 

“When do you head back up north?” he asked. 

“Tomorrow morning,” she said. 

“Shame,” he replied. “I had hoped I could treat you to lunch. Another time?”

“After your generosity, if there is to be any treating, it will be from me,” she said. “But yes, another time.”

“Good night, then,” he said. 

“Good night,” she returned. 

The chauffeur helped her out and closed the door, but they did not leave until Caroline was safely inside. Her mind was made up. She would make Edward Foyle notice her. If none of her cousins would do for themselves, she would.

Back at the club, Sybbie noticed Speirs sitting in her chair and that Caroline’s was empty. Her brow furrowed as she and Marigold approached. 

“Where is she?” Sybbie asked. 

“She said she was leaving,” Speirs answered. 

“As in, going outside or going home?” Marigold wondered. 

He only shrugged before getting up and walking away. 

“Well, that’s helpful,” Sybbie said scornfully. 

“Want me to check outside?” Dick offered, having accompanied Marigold back to the table. 

“If you don’t mind,” Marigold said, and he nodded. “Thank you.”

He left, and in the meantime, Joe and Victoria also came back to sit down. 

“Where’s Caroline?” she asked. 

“We’re trying to find out,” Sybbie answered. 

Dick returned and reported that Caroline was not anywhere outside. 

“Let’s go back to Aunt Rosamund’s and see if she’s home,” Marigold said. “I’m sorry to have to cut our evening short.” 

“Can we escort you?” Dick offered. 

Marigold smiled. “Certainly.”

And so Dick, Nix, and Joe, walked Marigold, Sybbie, and Victoria respectively, home. The girls were worried about Caroline, but the men assured them she was more than likely at the house and waiting for them. 

“This Speirs fellow,” Marigold said. “Is he really unpleasant?”

“Hard to say,” Nix answered. “He’s in another company, so we don’t spend much time with him.”

“He really seems to get under Caroline’s skin,” Sybbie said. “But it’s unlike her to storm that far off.”

Sybbie was secretly hoping it was not her own speech that had sent Caroline into the night on her own. The latter could be quite childish, and making them worry about her was just the sort of punishment she would come up with for the disagreement. 

“What are you all doing for Christmas?” Victoria wondered out of the blue. “Will you be going home?”

Nix shook his head. “No, there’s no time for us to go all the way to the states and back. There will be leave, but probably just for the day before through the day after.”

“I was just thinking,” she said. “Why don’t you all come up to Downton? It’s lovely this time of year, and you should have a proper Christmas.”

“I didn’t know you celebrated,” Joe teased. 

“Well, my mother is a Christian, so we celebrate it as well as Hanukkah,” she said. 

“Victoria, don’t you think we should check with Aunt Mary and our grandfather first?” Sybbie suggested. 

“Well, yes, but they’ll agree, I think,” Victoria said. “Why shouldn’t they? These men are going to do such good things for the war effort, and I think a great house would do well to show their support.”

“We’ll wait for a formal invitation,” Nix said.

They all came to a stop on the sidewalk outside Rosamund’s house. 

“Well, here we are,” Marigold said. “We’ll let you know about Christmas. Thank you for walking us.”

“No problem,” Dick replied. “Let us know if you find Caroline.”

“We will,” she assured him. 

They bid the men goodnight, with Joe sneaking Victoria another kiss. The others pretended not to notice. The men remained on the sidewalk until the girls were through the door. As the cousins came in, they saw Caroline’s coat on the rack. They all shrugged theirs off to join it. 

“Caroline!” Sybbie called. “Are you here?”

Caroline emerged from the sitting room, still dressed. 

“I’m here,” she said. “I’m sorry I left without saying anything, but you’ll never guess who I got a ride home from.”

“Who?” Marigold asked. 

“Edward Foyle,” Caroline said excitedly. 

“Lord Gillingham’s...nephew?” Marigold tried to recall. 

“His second cousin,” Caroline corrected. “And because Lord Gillingham doesn’t have sons, guess who is the heir to the title!”

“Oh, boy,” Sybbie sighed. 

“It’s Edward,” Caroline said, though they had all understood her. “I’m going to invite him to Downton as a thank you for getting me home.”

“It looks like Downton is going to have lots of visitors in the near future,” said Marigold. 


	5. Chapter 5

“Okay, listen up,” Nix began, standing in front of the division for announcements. “Christmas is coming up. You all have leave from December twenty third through December twenty eighth. This time is yours to spend in England as you like. You’re even free to remain here in Aldbourne.” 

A few skeptical sniggers went through the crowd before Nixon went on. 

“That being said, the 101st has received a special invitation,” he went on. “Colonel Sink and Major Strayer have gotten word that the Earl of Grantham has invited fifteen men from our division to be guests at Downton Abbey up in Yorkshire for Christmas. There is a sign up sheet here on the desk, and it’s first come, first serve. So, just know, that’s an option.”

He went on with the announcements, but there weren’t many more. As soon as they were over, a few men flocked to the list. Joe Liebgott signed up, as did Dick Winters, Lewis Nixon, Bill Guarnere, Eugene Roe, Buck Compton, Don Malarkey, Skip Muck, George Luz, Carwood Lipton, Floyd Talbert, Harry Welsh, and Joe Toye. Speirs was the only one to sign up that wasn’t from E Company. 

As Ron signed his name, he pictured the look on Caroline’s face when she saw him there. He smiled to himself. 

Dick raised a curious eyebrow at Speirs’ retreating form. Then he looked at the list. 

“That filled up fast,” he said. 

“You’re telling me,” Nix agreed. “But it’s about everyone I expected.”

“One spot left,” Dick said. “Wonder who’ll take it.”

Nix retrieved a cigarette and popped it into his mouth. “No idea.”

“I can’t wait to see Victoria again,” Liebgott said to Talbert.

“I bet,” Talbert joked. “Think she’ll finally put out for you?”

The guys laughed as Joe punched Tab on the arm. 

“Better be careful, Joe, these guys got connections,” Luz warned sarcastically. “You compromise her virtue and they might make you disappear.”

They chuckled some more, Joe included. They all knew it wasn’t like that, but ribbing was customary once one of them became interested in a girl. 

“Hey, do you think we’ll have to say Jerry around them instead of Kraut?” Skip wondered lightly. 

“It’s Christmas, I hope we don’t have to say either,” Welsh said. 

“Holy shit, look who’s going up there,” Malarkey said, looking toward the sign up sheet, stunned. 

A grim silence took over as all eyes turned to follow his gaze. With horror, they watched their CO, Captain Sobel put his name in the final slot. 

“Is he fucking serious right now?” Liebgott wondered. 

“Guess so,” Skip grumbled. “We’ll just have to make the best of it.”

“Make the best of it?” Malarkey returned. “It’s gonna be miserable!”

Dick and Lewis were in similar disbelief. They stood frozen to their spots as Sobel turned around. 

“Why the surprise, gentlemen?” he asked, a superior tone dripping from his voice. “I enjoy a bit of the finer things. Some history and...pretty girls.”

He eyed Dick challengingly. 

“That Marigold seems nice,” he said. 

“She is, sir,” Dick replied stoically, but inside his stomach turned. 

“Good to know,” Sobel said, before walking away. 

Dick watched him and let out a slow breath. Sobel could be petty, but this seemed downright vicious. Things were getting personal. 

“Well, this oughta be good,” Nix joked. 

Dick only sighed. 

***

Caroline was flying. The frigid air brought a heat to her skin that made her feel alive, and the speed brought her an indescribable freedom. Plus, she was winning. 

When Edward accepted her invitation to Downton for Christmas, she was pleasantly surprised. She expected he would have gone to see the current Lord Gillingham, but he informed her that they were not particularly close. It felt shellfish to be relieved since it worked out so well for her. 

She was even more excited when he told her that he enjoyed riding. It was one of Caroline’s favorite pastimes, so the thought of a beaux sharing an interest made his potential all the more appealing. As they rode together now, racing, she was exhilarated. Also, she knew she looked good in her riding clothes. 

Her horse leapt gracefully over the fence that was their determined finish line, so she slowed to a stop before turning to taunt Edward as he crossed. 

“I win!” she gloated, out of breath. 

“An impressive victory, I must say,” he returned, panting as well. 

He patted his horse’s neck and whispered a soft consolation. 

“I hope it doesn’t wound your ego,” she teased. “Losing to a girl.”

“I’m far too confident for such an arbitrary thing to be hurtful,” he returned. “That being said, I believe it’s your petite frame that won you the race. Your animal doesn’t have as much to carry.”

They laughed together at his little joke, and she quite liked his smile. He wasn’t as handsome as Ron Speirs, but he wasn’t hard to look at either. Caroline shook her head. She shouldn’t be thinking of Speirs right now. Or ever. 

“I’m actually impressed that you ride side saddle,” he told her. “That’s not common these days.”

“I am the daughter of Lady Mary Talbot, not a burlesque performer,” she returned. 

He grinned. “You’re traditional. I like that.”

“I like that too,” she told him. “Shall we head back to the house? I’m sure the horses are exhausted.”

“I think they’ve got one more race in them,” he suggested. 

“You want to race back?” she asked. 

He nodded. “But let’s raise the stakes. If I win, I get a kiss.”

Caroline blinked. It was the first really flirtatious thing he’d said to her. She had been beginning to wonder if she should give up on him. But if he wanted her to kiss him, there was hope yet. She smirked. 

“And if I win?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Pick your prize,” he replied. 

His wicked expression told her he was expecting something similar. But Caroline was not keen to kiss him. She had never been kissed, and she didn’t want to bet on something like that. She was sentimental about some things. 

“Fifty quid,” she shot back. 

He shook his head as if he hadn’t heard her right. 

“I’m sorry?” he asked. 

“Fifty quid,” she said, holding her head high. “If I win, I want a monetary prize.”

To her relief, he laughed. 

“I see!” he sighed. “Traditional and practical. Fifty quid it is, then.”

“Hope you’ve got your wallet on you,” she teased. 

She kicked her heels into her horse’s side and took off down the lane, Edward in hot pursuit.

***

At Downton, Marigold was choosing an outfit to wear for when the soldiers arrived, with the help of Edith. Edith and Bertie were at Downton for the holidays, with their son, Hugh. 

“What about the green one?” Edith suggested. “That’s a flattering color on you.”

“I was saving that one for dinner,” Marigold said. “It’s more evening wear.”

“Oh, I quite agree,” Edith replied, looking closer at the garment. “You need a day dress for the afternoon.”

Marigold scrolled through her dresses, but couldn’t muster up any excitement. She was too nervous. 

“How is your research going?” Edith asked. “I do so love where you’re going with the magazine.”

“I’m glad you approve,” Marigold replied. “In fact, I found out something rather sad. The owner of the magazine before you, Michael Gregson, was killed by the Brownshirts. And from some records, I realized he gave it to you. Along with the flat in Notting Hill. All this time, I thought you’d purchased it.”

The color drained from Edith’s face. She had not heard Michael’s name spoken aloud in years, and her heart broke anew to hear it from his own daughter’s lips. The daughter who did not know that was her father. Who would never know him. 

“Yes, we were friends,” she said shakily. “He came to stay here a few times.”

“You must have been rather close for him to will you everything,” Marigold pointed out. “I knew you worked for him, but I thought you did most of that from here.”

“I did, but we got together in London too,” Edith went out vaguely. “He was kind to me, and he trusted me.”

“I suppose he couldn’t leave everything to his wife in her condition,” Marigold said. 

She finally picked out a floral tea dress with long sleeves and a wide belt. 

“Y-you know about his wife?” Edith asked. 

“Her incarceration was public record,” Marigold returned. “What do you think of this?” She indicated the dress.

“It’s lovely,” Edith told her with a hesitant smile. 

She was shocked at Marigold’s nonchalance about this. Then she reminded herself that Marigold didn’t know the truth of it and therefore it couldn’t possibly mean much to her. 

“Not that Michael Gregson is of any consequence to the English general public,” Marigold went on. “But I do wonder what on Earth he was doing in Germany in the first place. Did he ever tell you?”

Edith’s hands became clammy. Her legs shook as she lowered herself to sit on the bed. Marigold frowned with concern. 

“Are you alright?” she asked gently. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t even think how upsetting this might be for you.”

“You’re alright, darling,” Edith assured her with a watery smile. “I just...it’s been a long time and he was a very, very dear friend.”

Marigold knew it was insensitive, but she couldn’t stop herself. 

“Then... _ did  _ he tell you what he was doing in Germany?” she asked. 

“He was trying to get a divorce,” Edith answered blankly. “But that’s all I can say.”

Marigold’s brows furrowed. She knew from her time in the French Resistance that “all I can say” and “all I know” are two entirely different things. And people say them for entirely different reasons. Edith was hiding something about Michael Gregson. That distrubed Marigold all the more. Edith was basically a mother to her, and she had always believed there were no secrets between them. 

“Wear that dress,” Edith said. “It’s beautiful.”

She got to her feet and headed for the door. Marigold started to ask her to stay, but the door was shut before she could get the words out. And Edith was gone. Marigold listened to her footsteps fade down the corridor, and she was certain she heard a sniffle. 

***

The family and servants lined up outside the front door to greet the soldiers. Even Sybbie had made it home on time, though she was still in her uniform. As they gathered, Mary looked around and noticed one person was missing. 

“Where is Caroline?” she asked Henry, who only shrugged. She looked at Victoria and asked again. 

“No idea,” Victoria replied. “She and Edward Foyle went riding this morning and I haven’t seen them since.”

Mary frowned. “I know she isn’t fond of them, but she cannot be rude.”

Victoria shrugged as well. “I’m afraid there isn’t much to be done about that. Caroline is as stubborn as they come.”

Mary had no chance to say much else. The cars arrived, carrying the men of the 101st who had accepted the invitation. Colonel Sink and Major Strayer, with fifteen others. Robert and Cora marched out to meet them as they stepped out of the car. 

“Lord Grantham, I want to thank you for inviting me and my men to your estate for a nice Christmas,” Sink began as they shook hands. “That’s mighty fine of you.”

“We’re happy to host the men coming to our aid in our time of need,” Robert replied. 

Cora told him to say this. Robert truthfully did not believe the British armed forces needed any assistance, but Cora insisted on him being polite. She reminded him that their own marriage was an example of Americans saving the British when the need was dire. 

The men coming next looked up at the Abbey in awe. There were no houses like this in America. At least none that they had ever seen. 

“Jesus,” Luz said. “It’s like a real life castle.”

Joe Liebgott swallowed nervously. “Yeah.”

He caught Victoria’s eye and she smiled warmly, which eased his anxiety some. 

They all gathered and prepared to file inside when the sound of galloping hooves distracted everyone. Caroline, followed closely by Edward came flying into the driveway on horseback before skidding to a halt. Caroline’s face was alight with the adrenaline coursing through her body. 

“HA!” she boasted through her heavy breathing. “I win again! That’s fifty quid, sir!”

Edward chuckled, taking in long gulps of air himself. “Very well. I’ll pay you at dinner, I’m afraid my wallet is up in my room.”

It took them a moment to realize they had interrupted the family. Caroline’s cheeks flushed deeper, and she averted her mother’s fierce and disapproving scowl. 

Edward checked his watch. “Blimey, is that the time? I’m terribly sorry, I had no idea we were so late.”

“Colonel, I do apologize,” Cora said to Sink. “I’m afraid my granddaughter has forgotten her manners.”

Caroline looked away and met the gaze of Speirs. He smiled. She huffed, and turned toward Edward before dismounting. Some footmen approached to take her horse. Edward followed suit. 

“Granny, I’m sorry,” Caroline said to Cora. “We quite lost track of time in all our fun.” 

“It was my fault, Lady Grantham,” Edward said. “Your granddaughter is quite charming and I was not eager to get her back.” 

“Just be sure it doesn’t happen again,” Cora said. “Now you two go freshen up.” 

“Not to worry,” Caroline said. “We’ll be in tip top shape by dinner and ready to be introduced to our guests.”

Ignoring her mother, she swept into the house. Edward watched her go. 

“What a woman,” he said, half to himself. 

Mary’s frown became impossibly deeper. 

“Please, come in, all of you,” Cora said to the soldiers. 

They all followed her into the house. 

The men were shown to their rooms by maids or footmen so they could rest before dinner. Joe set his bag down and looked around the room. This was the finest room he had ever stayed in, and he would likely never see finer in his lifetime. It was intimidating. 

He didn’t have time to dwell on that. There was a soft, anxious knock on his door. He answered it and in an instant, Victoria was crashing into him, her lips on his. He quickly kicked the door shut and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her as close as possible, all while their lips remained locked together. 

When they broke apart for air, they were both rosy and intoxicated. 

“I’ve missed you,” Victoria said breathlessly. “So very much.”

“I’ve missed you too,” he returned, stroking her cheek with his thumb. “I don’t think I’ve ever gotten such a friendly greeting.” 

She chuckled at that. “I couldn’t wait. I know it’s not appropriate for me to be in your room, but  _ oh golly _ I wanted to kiss you.”

She was so adorable he thought he might burst.

“I’m glad you did,” he told her. “I had no idea you lived in such a nice place.”

“Well, I don’t live here full time,” she reminded him. “My father is Lord Sinderby, but that estate is just as excellent. I hope you can see it some time.”

Joe swallowed. He wasn’t sure he wanted to. It was hard enough feeling up to scratch in a place Victoria  _ didn’t _ live. 

“Yeah, that’d be nice,” he said, hiding his discomfort. 

The gong rang and she pouted. 

“Oh, no,” she sighed. “We’ve got to get dressed. I’ll try to sit next to you at dinner if that’s alright.”

“Please do,” he said. 

“Okay, I’ll see you then,” she said. 

With one more kiss, she left. He decided he wasn’t going to let something as trivial as a building stand between him and this girl he truly, genuinely liked. It was too rare and too special. 

Down the hall, Caroline emerged from her room, in a gown suitable for dinner. As she stepped into the hallway, she nearly collided with a figure outside her door. She looked up and saw that it was Speirs. He was in his dress uniform (which all the soldiers were told to wear for dinner), and she hated to admit that she liked the look of it on him. 

“Well,” she said stiffly. “Don’t you look...dashing.”

“You look great,” he replied, his tone very matter-of-fact. 

“Thank you, I know,” she shot back. 

Speirs bit back a laugh. She was so confident, so brazen. He liked that. He found himself bored by women who agreed with him or tried to make him feel manly or whatever it was they did to appear wifely. Caroline knew what she was and was unapologetic. 

“That’s good,” he said. 

“Were you waiting for me?” she asked. 

“Nope, I was walking by and your door caught me off guard,” he lied. 

He had every intention of escorting her to dinner. He just had not anticipated the man she’d rode in with today. She seemed to like him, and that bothered Speirs. 

“I don’t believe you,” she told him. “As it is, Sir Edward Fo-”

She couldn’t finish the name before the man himself arrived. Only, he was wearing a regular suit with a black tie. 

“I’m going to sack my valet,” he said irritably. “He packed my father’s dinner jacket instead of mine.”

Speirs thought the man looked just fine, but Caroline’s displeasure was palpable. 

“You mean - you’re wearing  _ this _ to dinner?” she gasped. “No white tie? Nothing?”

“I’m sorry, Caroline,” he said. “But it’s all I have. Unless you want me to go down in nothing at all.”

Caroline’s face burned at the idea. “Of course not! I just can’t believe you’re going down there dressed like a waiter.” 

“Don’t be cross,” Edward said. “It’s not that important these days.”

“It is to  _ me _ !”

“Hold on,” Speirs interrupted. “What’s wrong with what he’s wearing?”

“It’s not a dinner jacket,” Caroline answered, rolling her eyes. 

“What’s the difference?” he wondered. 

“A dinner jacket has tails,” she snapped. “It requires a white tie, and - oh, what do you know? Let’s just go down.”

She turned on her heel and left them in the hallway. Edward looked at her back with a grimace. 

“Hm, that will have to be corrected,” he said. 

Speirs glanced at the other man. “What will?”

“That attitude,” Edward said. “I think I can get rid of it.”

Speirs raised an eyebrow. “What’s the matter? Can’t handle it?”

Edward looked Speirs up and down. “Oh, believe me. I’ll handle it.”

He too did not wait for a reply before following Caroline. Speirs waited a moment, as he had no desire to be around this Edward fellow. In fact, he had never found himself disliking someone so much so quickly. He wondered if there was some sort of understanding about a future between them. He decided to ask Sybbie about it. She was the most approachable. 

The drawing room was rather crowded with the amount of visitors, but it was lively. The men of the 101st were behaving extra carefully since Sink, Strayer, and Sobel were in the room. Dick was standing with Nixon, but his eyes were trained on Marigold, who had been cornered by Sobel for several minutes. Dick let out occasional huffs, which did not go unnoticed by his friend. 

“If it bothers you, go over there,” Nix said. 

“Lew, if I go over there, I’ll pay for it later,” Dick replied. 

Nix shrugged. “You’re probably right. I’m just saying it looks like she could use some rescuing.”

Dick had to concede that point. Marigold looked as bored as he’d ever seen her. For a moment, he considered sucking it up and taking whatever came for him and going over there. But before he could, another woman approached him. 

“Pardon me, are you Lieutenant Winters?” she asked. 

Dick recognized her as Lady Edith Pelham. Marigold’s caretaker.

“Yes,” he told her. “And you’re Lady Hexom, right?”

“I am,” she said. “I wanted to speak to you because Marigold seems rather taken up with you. She writes about you in all her letters.”

Dick felt his cheeks get warm. “Does she?”

“Yes,” she said. “I think she has rather a crush on you, and well, I suppose I wanted to see what all the fuss was about.”

“Oh, Edith, don’t embarrass him,” Mary interjected, rolling her eyes. “Let Marigold manage her own affairs.”

“I’m only trying to -”

“I’m not embarrassed,” Dick assured Edith. “Marigold and I are just friends as of now, and we’re content with that.”

“That’s for the best,” Mary said. “After all, you come from different worlds.”

Dick wasn’t sure what to say. All he knew was that he finally understood Caroline a bit more after this interaction with her mother. They were similar down to their voice and mannerisms. 

On the couch, Sybbie was speaking to Doc Roe. He confessed to her that he was nervous about going into combat with his limited experience, and she was reassuring him. 

“I can’t speak for seeing what you might in combat,” she said. “But I do know what these men need is a calm, grounded person to walk them through their suffering. I see that in you, Gene.”

“Thank you,” he replied sheepishly. “That’s awfully kind.”

She smiled at him, their eyes lingering on each other. 

“What?” he asked. 

“Nothing, I just so enjoy listening to you,” she said. “I’ve never heard an accent like that. It’s really beautiful.”

“Thank you,” he said again. “It’s Cajun.”

“Cajun,” she repeated. “And you speak French too?”

He nodded. “It’s a different dialect, I think, than the French you’d hear in Europe.”

“I’m sure it is,” she said, and paused a beat. “Listen, would you like to come with me to the hospital tomorrow? You won’t see exactly what you’ll find in combat, but you will be exposed to the effects. Maybe it’ll help you to not be shocked.”

“That’s generous of you, I’d like that,” he agreed. 

“Excellent,” she said, sitting up another inch or so. 

Within a few minutes, Thomas came in to announce that dinner was ready. So Robert got everyone’s attention and urged them to go through to the dining room. As they came into the entrance hall, the door creaked open. All eyes turned on the new arrival, who was alone, head down, but clearly a British soldier from his uniform. As he came in, he shook a light dusting of snow off his jacket before removing his hat, which revealed his identity. 

“George!” Mary gasped. 

“Merry Christmas, Mother.” 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: This chapter contains Nazi symbolism and period-typical anti-Semitism.

The family surged forward to embrace their returning hero. Caroline hesitated, standing next to Speirs. She watched them hug and kiss and welcome her brother, conflict visible in her face. At least it was to Speirs. 

“Aren’t you gonna say hello?” he wondered. 

“I will,” she said blankly. “I’ll give them a moment.”

“You’re a part of his family too, you know,” he said. 

She looked at him, and for the first time, he saw fragility in her eyes. It lasted barely a second before they hardened into bitterness again. 

“I am not the priority,” she said. “I never have been.”

And with that, she finally went to greet George, and they kissed each other on the cheek. Speirs observed her carefully. She played her part well. No one in the family would have guessed that she bore any resentment - she donned a wide smile and welcomed George graciously home. 

“Gentlemen,” Robert finally said. “I’d like to introduce my grandson and heir, Captain George Crawley of the 1st British Airborne.”

The 101st all greeted him kindly, and George beamed at them. 

“I must say I’m glad to see you chaps,” he said. “These Germans are nasty, and we all need to take a stand. Thank you for being here and for being so sweet to my sister and cousins.”

They all murmured back what a pleasure it was.

“Let’s have dinner,” Mary said. “Come through with us, darling.”

“Shouldn’t I change?” George asked. 

“Oh, don’t let’s bother with all that,” Mary assured him. “Your company is the most important thing, and I’m sure you’re hungry.”

“Ravenous,” he told her. 

He put his arm around her shoulders and came with them into the dining room, where Thomas had already set another place. George went over and shook his hand. 

“Thank you, Barrow,” he said. “For keeping my secret so I could surprise them.”

“You knew?” Mary cried. 

Thomas smiled. “Master George wanted to make it a special Christmas surprise, so I told the chauffeur when to fetch him from the station. I wanted to do my part, small as it is.”

No one could begrudge him that. They all took their seats. Marigold was sitting between Dick and Sobel, Caroline was between Speirs and Edward, Sybbie was beside George and Roe, and Victoria was on Sobel’s other side, with Joe beside her.

The mood was much lighter upon George’s arrival. As if the holiday were finally complete now that he was among them once more. Robert and Mary were fussing, asking him if he was alright and if his journey was pleasant. He assured them he was just fine, but the train ride felt terribly long since he was so eager to be home again. 

“I say, when I first saw the Abbey, I nearly shed tears,” he confessed. “You go into combat and you try to be optimistic, but there’s always a fear that you won’t….well, anyway. I’m glad to be home.”

“We’re glad to have you,” Mary said. “We missed you so much.” 

Down the table, Edward looked at Caroline. 

“So, Caroline,” he began. “Will you be presented soon to have your season?”

The question both pleased and upset her. She was happy because it indicated an interest in courtship. However, the truth of the matter was that those things didn’t apply to her. 

“My father is not a lord,” she reminded him as well as herself. “I won’t have a presentation or a season.”

“Oh, yes, I suppose that’s true,” he said. “Well, I remember Victoria’s, it was lovely.”

Victoria had been deep in a conversation with Joe, but looked over the table at the sound of her name. 

“Hm?” she asked. 

“Nothing,” Caroline assured her. “We were just saying how pleasant your season was.”

“Oh, it was a jolly good time,” Victoria said. “Though a bit sad with most of the men gone.”

Joe shot her a quizzical look. “Your what?”

“My season in London,” she told him. “It’s a tradition…”

She went on to explain it, making Joe’s feelings of inadequacy return. Victoria really belonged to a whole other world. One he could hardly hope to understand. 

“So, what are your plans for us tomorrow, Caroline?” Edward asked. “I’d like a re-match to earn my money back.” He lowered his voice. “Or that kiss.”

She smirked at him. “Don’t get your hopes up. I’m an excellent rider and a very sore loser.”

Speirs frowned at the interaction, but he adored Caroline’s answer. 

The rest of dinner went rather smoothly. The men of the 101st were naturally curious about George’s combat experience, and he told them as much as he could. Though he of course couldn’t say where they were going and what they might face there. 

Caroline and Edward got along swimmingly, much to Speirs’ displeasure. He made a few comments here and there that only Caroline could hear, just to see her scowl at them. He was fully aware that he was annoying her, but he had her attention. And it was likely he wouldn’t see her the next day if she was going riding again. 

Sobel tried to speak more to Marigold, but she quickly immersed herself in a conversation with Dick and Nixon. When that wasn’t working, Sobel tried to engage Victoria. She was similarly occupied. So, he kept to himself for most of the evening. 

After dinner, the ladies went back to the drawing room for some wine, while the men remained in the dining room for cigars and whiskey. Robert found himself liking these American chaps more and more, but nothing compared to the joy of his grandson being home. In the spirit of that joy, he ensured every man received a cigar, some of his best, and there was thankfully enough to go around. He didn’t even say anything when he spotted Speirs sneak an extra into his pocket.

When they joined the women in the drawing room, much of the crowd was simmering down. A comfortable and content quiet fell upon the house. And slowly, people began to trickle off to bed. 

Victoria sat in front of the fire with Joe, and covered a yawn with her hand. He chuckled.

“Tired?” he asked. 

She nodded. “Quite. Walk me up, will you?”

“Sure,” he agreed. 

They departed the room. 

When they were certain no one could see them, Joe and Victoria clasped hands on their way up the stairs. They walked down the corridor in silence. Her bedroom door was not far now, but she could sense that there was something on his mind. He had withdrawn ever so slightly, so she guessed he didn’t want her to be concerned. But she was anyway. 

“Joe,” she said. “What’s the matter?”

He shook his head. “Nothing.”

“Please tell me,” she insisted. “I’d like to help if I can.”

“It’s nothing, Victoria, really,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.” 

“Joe, please,” she said. “I feel it.” 

He came to a stop outside her door and looked at her. Heaving a sigh, he came out with it. 

“It’s this place,” he said. “These people. The traditions. All of it is just a reminder of how different we are, and it’s kinda -”

He stopped dead, his eyes focused on her door. His brows knit together and she looked at his face, puzzled. 

“What?” she asked. “It’s kind of what?”

“Hold on,” he said. 

He released her hand and walked up to her door. On it was a little red flag. But the flag bore the bent cross of the swastika. His eyes went wide. 

“What the fuck…” he murmured.

She stepped closer and saw it too. She sucked in a sharp breath as her hand clapped over her mouth. Her other hand jumped to Joe’s arm, clinging to him tightly. The sight chilled her to her core. So much so she actually shivered.

“What does this mean?” she wondered when the shock wore off a little. Her voice was still small, as if whoever placed it there might still be listening and would know she was afraid. “Why is this here?” 

“I dunno,” he said, equally stunned, but quietly furious. “Let’s get your family.”

She nodded. Joe snatched the flag down and together, they ran back down the hall to the stairs. 

Several men of the 101st had gone to bed, and some of the family as well. Cora, Edith, Bertie, and Hugh had all gone up already. So when Victoria burst into the drawing room, face white as a sheet and eyes wide and watery, everyone looked at her. Joe came in behind, flag in hand. 

“This was on my bedroom door,” she blurted out, pointing to the flag. 

Joe let it unfurl and Victoria recoiled from it, as several shocked reactions went around. Robert and George got to their feet. 

Marigold approached first and looked at it, and then at Victoria’s terrified face. 

“When I was in Paris,” Marigold said. “Flags this size were used to identify targets.”

Horrified gasps went through the room. 

“Turn it over,” Marigold instructed. “It should label the reason.”

“I saw it already,” Joe said. “It says  _ Juden _ . Jew.” 

“My God!” Robert cried. “What is the meaning of this?”

“Either Victoria is the victim of a very cruel prank,” Marigold said. “Or someone in this house is a Nazi sympathizer.”

An astounded silence took over the room. The weight of it was crushing. Victoria’s bottom lip quivered and she let out a little whimper. Then George snapped back to the moment. 

“Barrow,” he said to Thomas. “Gather the staff. Even the maids. If they’ve gone home, tell them to get back here immediately. We’re calling the police. They must come in for questioning, and all of them must account for where they’ve been all evening.”

Sink looked at Dick. 

“Dick, get some men to check our doors,” Sink said quietly. “Make sure Liebgott’s and Herbert’s don’t have this shit on there.”

“Sir,” Dick agreed. “Talbert, Lipton, go check Liebgott’s door and Captain Sobel’s door for any signs of a flag like this.”

Those two left and went up to the wing of the house designated for the 101st. 

“George,” Marigold said. “I hate to be the wet blanket here, but it could have been someone in this room.” 

“I don’t think so,” George replied. “Whoever it was must have done it while we were at dinner. And all of us were present.”

“I suppose that’s true,” she conceded. “Because before that, we were all in the drawing room.”

“And I’m sure it wasn’t on my door before I came down,” Victoria said. “I would have seen it.”

Lip and Tab came jogging back in. 

“There were no flags on any of our doors,” Lip reported. 

“So whoever did it only knew about Victoria,” Marigold said. 

“It must have been one of the staff, then,” Caroline added. “But I don’t think any of our servants could be involved with the -”

“Anything is possible, Caroline,” Marigold said. 

“I hope it was just a prank,” Mary interjected. “It will get them sacked, of course, but that’s better than the alternative.”

“It isn’t funny,” Victoria croaked. 

“No, darling, it isn’t,” Sybbie agreed, taking her cousin into her arms. “Stay in my room with me tonight, just to be safe.”

Victoria nodded, and when she blinked a tear rolled down her cheek. 

The police arrived shortly after to question the staff. Barrow was cleared, as were Anna, Bates, their son Johnny, Daisy, and the housekeeper. The police told the family and the soldiers to go to bed, as questioning would likely continue into the early morning hours. They reluctantly agreed, but only after the assurance the police would inform them of any important information right away. Robert and George said they should be woken first in the case of a breakthrough. 

The next day, the police reported to George, Robert, Mary, and Colonel Sink that all of the staff were accounted for during the time the flag might have been placed there. In fact, most of the maids were already gone, and the footmen were in the kitchen, which was corroborated by Thomas and Daisy. The mystery remained. 

Before she and Roe left for the hospital, Sybbie asked Daisy to send Victoria’s breakfast up to her in bed. Even though it wasn’t customary for an unmarried girl, Sybbie thought Victoria deserved it, and she needed rest after that kind of shock. 

Marigold was out for a post-breakfast walk with Dick and Nixon. They were all speculating on what might have happened, but none of them could come up with anything logical. 

“Poor Victoria,” Marigold sighed. “I can’t imagine how scared she must have been.”

“I saw Sybbie on her way out this morning,” Dick said. “She told me Victoria didn’t fall asleep until it was almost dawn.”

“Gracious,” Marigold said. “Well, I hope she’ll be alright. I just cannot imagine that anyone here would do something like this.”

Nix took a long drag of his cigarette and exhaled slowly. “How much do you know about this Edward Foyle?”

“Not a great deal,” Marigold answered. “His second cousin, Lord Gillingham, is a good friend of Lady Mary’s, so we’ve met Edward at a few events, but I’ve never really gotten to know him. Why?”

Nix shrugged and looked out over the lawn. “Just wondering.”

A beat passed before Marigold spoke again. “And that’s not the only mystery.”

“Oh?” Dick questioned. “What do you mean?”

She explained her research into Michael Gregson, and then about Edith’s reaction. The men listened carefully, Dick appearing surprised, while Nix’s expression was contemplative. As she wrapped up the whole story, they took a moment to absorb it all. 

“That’s odd,” Dick said. “I wonder if Lady Edith was in love with this man.”

“I suspected her feelings might have been deeper than friendship considering her reaction,” Marigold agreed. “But he must have felt deeper too. I mean, he left her everything.”

“I’ve got a theory,” Nix said, and Marigold met his gaze. “Would you like to hear it? It may be hurtful.”

She hesitated, unsure what he meant by that. Why should an old flame of Lady Edith’s upset her? So she nodded. 

“I’d like to hear it,” she said. “Fire away.”

“I think Lady Edith and Gregson were lovers,” Nix said. “Physically, not just emotionally. And if I had to guess, he wasn’t able to get a divorce, so he went to Germany in order to get it. They’re divorce laws are likely pretty different. And I think while he was gone, Lady Edith realized she was pregnant. And her parents, being kind and loving as they are, adopted the baby themselves to avoid a scandal. They might have explored other options, but ultimately, they didn’t want mother and child to be separated. And then, when the child was old enough, Lady Edith bestowed upon her what she believed was the child’s rightful inheritance - her father’s business and his home.”

Marigold swore her legs had turned to jelly. She reached out for Dick, who steadied her. She drew a shallow breath, and as she felt her eyes well up with tears, she realized how well the pieces fit together. She looked at Nixon.

“You, uh…” she cleared her throat. “You put that together quite quickly.”

“Well, no offense, but it’s not exactly an original story,” he replied. “And in Lady Edith’s defense, I could be way off base. Perhaps she isn’t the mother, but she loved Gregson enough to support his child.”

“But if that were the case, wouldn’t she just adopt Marigold herself?” Dick wondered. “Instead of going through Lord and Lady Grantham?”

“Not if she wanted to get married,” Nix replied. “What man would take it on? Especially if the child wasn’t Edith’s. But what convinces me that Edith is your mother is that she took you with her even after she got married and raised you like her own. And Bertie accepted you too.”

Marigold feared she might collapse, so she leaned further onto Dick, who supported her with the firmness of a wall. She was so grateful to him in that moment, but her mind was becoming steadily blank. The only thought she could muster up was that Lady Edith might be her true mother. 

“Take it easy,” Dick soothed her. “He could be wrong.”

“That’s just it,” she replied, voice all aquiver. “I don’t believe he is.”

On the grounds, Caroline had just beaten Edward in another race. They rested a moment so she could brag some more.

“You’re racking up quite a debt,” she teased. “Are you letting me win?”

“With a kiss at stake, can you really think that’s my intention?” he retorted.

They shared a laugh. Caroline was enjoying herself, but not quite as much as the previous day. Her mind was still with Victoria. Even though she knew men who were fighting, even some who had died, the war suddenly felt closer than it had before. 

“Are you alright, darling?” Edward asked. 

She smiled. “Of course. Just worried about Victoria is all.”

“Oh, yes,” he said. “Dreadful business. Was she awake when we left?”

She shook her head. “No. I’ll have to check on her when we get back. Which should probably be before luncheon.”

“I quite agree,” he said. “Say, is she serious about that American fellow?”

“Perhaps,” she told him. “I haven’t spoken to her much about it, except for me trying to dissuade her. Why? Are you interested?”

She had meant to sound like she was joking, but it came out more earnest. Edward did not remark on her tone, though. 

“Oh, goodness no,” he said. “I’ve got my eyes on a much finer prize.” He looked at Caroline with a knowing smile. “Besides, I could never settle down with one of her sort.”

Caroline blinked. “I - I’m sorry? What do you mean by that?”

“By what?”

“Her  _ sort _ ?”

He heaved a sigh. “This will seem rather insensitive after last night, but the fact is Victoria is a Jew.”

“And?”

He scoffed. “What do you mean, ‘and’? I am a Christian man, and my children will be born of a Christian mother. Besides, Victoria’s family only has their position because they gained it the Jewish way.”

“The Jewish way?!” she cried in disbelief. 

“Look!” he said irritably. “Call me old fashioned but I do not believe buying a title and an estate makes you a lord. Lady Sinderby has the credentials, not her husband.”

“Be careful,” she warned, tone darkening. “Lord Sinderby is a dearly loved member of our family and I will not allow you to speak ill of him.”

“It is not speaking ill to state the facts,” he insisted. “Lord Sinderby is a Jew and his title was purchased, not bestowed. That is not an insult.”

“Your disdain for it is,” she returned. “I’ll also remind you that my own great-grandfather was Jewish, and a self-made man.”

“And he did not go around calling himself Lord Levinson!” he cried, exacerbated. “Or whatever else he might have chosen!”

Caroline said nothing, but she could not look at Edward’s face. She was seething. He sighed again, and softened.

“Don’t be cross with me, darling,” he said gently. “I thought you would understand, being as traditional as I am.” 

She could not address that. She thought she might start yelling. 

“Let’s go back,” she said. “Luncheon will be served soon.”

“Caroline,” he began, but she ignored him. “Caroline!”

She ignored him still and urged her horse back toward the house. 

At the house, Speirs was doing some exploring. He went down to the servant’s hall and located the butler, Barrow. 

“How can I help you, sir?” Thomas asked. 

“Could you show me which room this Edward guy is staying in?” Speirs wondered. 

“Certainly,” Thomas said. “But Mr. Foyle is still out riding with Miss Caroline, so you won’t find him there.”

“That’s not the goal,” Speirs said. “But can you show me?”

Thomas’s brow furrowed, but he complied, leading Speirs upstairs and down the hall to the men’s rooms. Speirs realized that if Edward’s room was on this hall, he would have had to approach Caroline’s room from the opposite direction that he did the previous night. 

“It’s here, sir,” Thomas said. “This door.”

“Hm,” Speirs returned. “And, Lady Victoria’s room. Where is that?” 

Thomas hesitated. He wasn’t sure what Speirs was getting at, and it was risky to show him where the girls’ rooms were. But this man was also a guest of the family, and Thomas was instructed to give them what they wanted. 

“This way,” Thomas said. 

He led Speirs down the hall again, heading toward Caroline’s room. Victoria’s room was a few doors away in the direction Edward had come from the night before. And of course Caroline didn’t notice once she was set off by the dinner jacket fiasco. 

“Great,” Speirs said. “Thank you.”

He left Thomas there in the hallway, his mind at work. He had to tell Caroline. Right away.


	7. Chapter 7

Caroline stormed into the house and marched straight up the stairs. She had no idea if Edward was close behind her, but she didn’t care. His words were deeply insulting. As much as she liked him, she could not tolerate disparagement towards her family. And besides, Atticus and Rose were two of her favorite people in the world. Victoria was dear to her as well, and she suddenly felt all the more guilty for making her darling cousin feel bad over something so silly. 

But she had to get cleaned up before she spoke to Victoria. So Caroline went into her room, tossed her hat upon the bed, and took a seat at her vanity. Upon seeing her own stormy expression, she forced her face to soften. She hated to look so hard. She picked up her brush to get to work on the mess atop her head. 

She had barely gotten through the first curl when her door burst open. With a short yelp, she whipped around and saw Speirs standing there, which surprised her. She had expected it to be Edward. 

“What the devil is the matter with you?” she demanded. “You can’t just go bursting into people’s rooms! What if I’d been changing?!”

“Well you weren’t,” he replied coolly. “I gotta talk to you.”

“Oh, leave me alone,” she groaned. “I don’t have time.”

“It’s important,” he said. “Your boyfriend is the one who put that flag on Victoria’s door.”

Her heart constricted as she gasped. 

“How dare you!” she cried. 

“It’s true, and I can prove it,” he insisted. “The way he came by your door last night was from the direction of Victoria’s room. His own room is on another wing of the house.”

She frowned before raising a skeptical eyebrow. “Is that your only evidence?”

Irritation contorted his face for a split second. “What more do I need?”

“Certainly more than that,” she said. “I’m sure there’s a very good explanation for his coming that way.”

“Like what?” he questioned. 

“I don’t know, but for a well-born Englishman to sympathize with our enemy is just not likely.”

He scowled at her. 

“And by the way,” she added. “He is not my boyfriend. What a scandalous thing to say.”

“You’re taking this awfully lightly,” he remarked.

She cut her eyes from his. The truth was, the fight she’d just had with Edward made her doubt her own conviction that he was totally innocent. She was not sure that Speirs was right, but before hearing Edward talk today, she would have fully believed the words she was saying now. She raised her head and looked at him confidently. 

“How else should I take it?” she asked with a smirk. “You haven’t been fond of Edward at all, why should I just take your word that he did this horrible thing?”

“I know you don’t like me, but I’ve never lied,” he told her. 

His frustration was growing. Her attitude and demeanor told him she found his theory laughable. It infuriated him. 

“I don’t know you very well, Lieutenant,” she said, shrugging. “I cannot attest to your honesty.”

A charged moment of eye contact passed between them. His expression relaxed and a crooked smile parted his lips.

“Fine,” he said. “You want honest? I’ll give you honest.”

“What do you -”

“Caroline, I think you are the most stubborn, petulant, annoying little brat I’ve ever met,” he began, and her jaw dropped, but he continued before she could stop him. “But all that attitude is only a front for the fact that you are terrified. You are so scared to give anyone the power to hurt you because you feel so rejected by your own family. So you push everyone new away before they can pile on. The truth is, you are desperate to be loved. To feel chosen. For someone to care enough about you to blow up those walls you’ve got up. Edward is not that man, but if he’s who you want that’s fine. I’ll put the pin back in my grenade.”

She released a breath. She didn’t even realize she had been holding it. But she could not muster up any words. He had exposed her so she was raw before him, as if he had stripped her naked. Her chest heaved as she struggled to regain herself. Her eyes suddenly stung with tears. 

She snapped her head up, prepared to lash out with something venomous, but he was gone. When did he leave? She had not even heard the door open and close. The walls he spoke of trembled. There was a crack in the foundation. 

Meanwhile, Dick, Marigold, and Nixon decided to have lunch at the pub in the village. Marigold was not quite ready to face Edith, especially with the rest of the family present. She didn’t want to expose this information to anyone who didn’t know it already, if what she suspected was true. 

She hardly touched her sandwich, but she guzzled down the pint the barkeep brought her. Dick and Nix exchanged a look, Nix amused and Dick concerned. 

She cleared her throat to disguise a low belch. “Sorry. Just needed to take the edge off.”

“Understandable,” Nix said. “It’s quite a shock, but don’t go off the deep end. You know you need to talk to Lady Edith.”

She nodded. Then a waitress came around and she ordered a round of shots of whiskey. The waitress assured her she’d be right back. 

“Taking more of the edge off?” Dick asked. 

“Mhm,” she replied shortly. “I’ll ask you kindly not to judge.”

The waitress returned with the whiskeys, placing one in front of each person. Marigold immediately swallowed hers and slammed the glass back on the table. 

“Oh, miss,” Nix said to the waitress, nodding toward Dick. “My friend here doesn’t drink.”

“Not a problem,” Marigold interjected, and swiped Dick’s from in front of him to knock it back. 

“Marigold,” Dick said gently, taking her hand. “Take it easy.”

She narrowed her eyes and him and snatched her hand away. “You find out your whole life is a lie and see how you feel.”

With that, she ordered another drink.

“Well, this should be an interesting afternoon,” Nix said. 

And so Marigold drank. Deeply and heavily. Anything to numb the pain of the truth which was threatening to eat her alive. She was the shame of Lady Edith’s life. A product of an affair and scandal that was hastily covered up by her grandparents. She had to face it, work through it, and eventually accept it. But that was all to come. For now, to keep herself from screaming under the weight of it all, she would get drunk, and forget she had any problems.

A few streets over, at the hospital, Sybbie was showing Roe around. He was attentive to how she handled the patients, and he admired her natural ability to calm and soothe these men. 

“You’re good with them,” he observed. 

She smiled. “Thank you. I certainly do my best. These men have seen the worst of the worst. I consider it my duty to provide a peaceful environment.”

“I suppose that’s what I’ll be seeing too,” he said, looking around. “Right now I’m looking at the effects. Soon enough I’ll see the cause.”

His shoulders had gone rigid. Sybbie was moved by his apprehension. He was scared, and he had come as close as he could to admitting it to her. 

“You’ll be fine, Gene,” she assured him. “You say I have a gift, but you do too. I’ve seen you talk your guys down from a bar fight, and it’s not so different to talk them down from their fear.”

He smiled half-heartedly. “That’s probably true.”

“And besides,” she added. “You’re very brave.”

He met her gaze. “You think so?”

“I know so,” she replied. “You all are. I have some knowledge of how the Army works, so I’m aware that all paratroopers are volunteers. You didn’t wait to be called up. And to do what you do takes more courage than I’ll ever have.”

“I think you could,” he told her. 

She scoffed. “Jump out of an airplane? Never.”

“Well, not everyone would call us courageous,” he said. 

“What would they call you, then?” she asked.

“Stupid.”

She giggled, which made his heart melt a little. 

“I suppose they might,” she laughed. 

“Nurse Branson!” a doctor called from the hall. “We need you!”

She deflated a little before looking at Roe. 

“Back to the real world,” she sighed. 

“Need some help?” he offered.

“All we can get,” she accepted. 

Together, they went to the aid of the doctor. 

Back at the house, Victoria was packing her bags. She had already called her mother and talked it over with Cora and Robert. She needed to go home now. It wasn’t safe at Downton as long as they didn’t know who put that flag on her door. Robert chalked it up to a servant playing a joke, but Victoria did not want to take any chances. She had just closed the clasps on her suitcase when there was a soft knock on her door. 

“Hey,” said the voice of Joe. 

She turned and smiled gently at him. “Hello.”

“Leaving so soon?” he asked. “It’s Christmas Eve.”

She looked at the floor and swallowed. “I know. But after what’s happened I feel a desperate need to be near my family.” She met his eyes. “I hope you understand.”

“‘Course I do,” he assured her. “I’m just gonna miss ya, is all.”

“I’ll miss you too,” she told him with a shaky smile. “I hope you’ll write to me. Or tell me when you’re in London again. Perhaps we can have lunch together or go dancing again or -”

“I’d love to,” he cut across her, and paused for an unsure beat. “I am sorry to see you go.”

“I’m sorry too,” she choked out.

She couldn’t say why she was so emotional. Saying goodbye to him was harder than she anticipated. 

“I like you a lot, Joe,” she confessed. “I hope you aren’t too put off by the world I’m from. Because you should know, it doesn’t matter to me. Not one bit.”

“Hey,” he said kindly, taking her into his arms. “I’ll admit, it’s been freaking me out, but I like you a lot too. Enough that I’m not gonna let it bother me.”

She nodded against his chest and sniffled. He stroked her hair, pressing his lips to her temple. 

“You know I’d never let anything happen to you,” he whispered.

She nodded again. This time with a small sob. 

“I know,” she breathed back. “But I can’t stay.”

“Believe me, I get it,” he said. “Can I go with you to the station?”

She looked up and met his gaze. “I’d like that very much.”

And so he accompanied her to the train station where they shared the most bitter parting either of them had known. The train whistled and whisked Victoria away. Joe knew it was for the best, but his heart was breaking. Both for what she had endured and that he wasn’t sure when he might see her again.

When he turned to go back to the house, he saw the men of his company standing there, supportively. He smiled. 

“Guys…”

“We’re here for ya, Joe,” Luz said, clapping Joe on the shoulder. “Wanna go to the pub?”

“Absolutely,” Joe agreed. 

They told the chauffeur to head back to the house, while the men of Easy Company walked into the village. 

Back in her room, where Caroline requested her luncheon be sent as she was in no mood to be in company, she finished getting cleaned up. She stewed over Speirs words, but even she could recognize that her anger was proof that he was right. Because as much as she hated what he had said to her, she found she was more upset that she had disappointed him. She wanted his approval. She wanted to see him again. She wanted -

“Caroline.”

Edward’s muffled voice floated from behind her door. He knocked lightly. 

“Caroline, darling, can I speak to you?” 

“Come in,” she said stiffly. 

He turned the knob and pushed the door open. She stood resolutely by her vanity. He stepped across the threshold and closed the door about halfway. A show of propriety and respect. It was in such contrast to the way Speirs had burst in and got straight to the point, and Caroline discovered she preferred the latter. 

“What do you want?” she asked coolly.

“To apologize,” he said with a sigh. “I feel terribly about how things went while we were out this morning, and I think it paints me in a rather harsh light. I meant no insult to you or your family, I promise.”

She looked away. “Is that all you’ve come to say?”

“Not quite,” he said. “You see, Caroline, the reason I would never want to insult your family is because...well….I hope very much to become a part of it.”

Her eyes snapped to his as her heart rate quickened. Before, that statement would have thrilled Caroline, but now it made her anxious. 

“Y-you do?” 

“Yes,” he said, smiling at her as if her reaction was some sort of girlish play at being coy. He stepped closer and took each of her hands in his. “Caroline, I’m very fond of you. You’re a beautiful, strong minded woman, who I think would make a fine Countess Gillingham one day.”

She took a deep breath. Her head felt like it was about to spin right off her neck. 

“Sir, is this…” she had to catch her breath. “Is this a proposal?”

He smiled at her in a way she was sure he meant to be comforting, but it felt more condescending. 

“Think of it as more of a statement of intention,” he said. “I haven’t asked your father yet, so I don’t think it should be taken as anything official. But that’s where I’m headed. And I hope you are as well.”

She swallowed, but her throat was tight and dry. A shiver ran up her spine. 

“I can see you’re quite overwhelmed,” he said. “I realize it is a big step, but I have no doubts about your ability to be my wife.” 

He leaned over to kiss her forehead, but she moved away. 

“Can you answer something for me?” she asked. 

“Anything, darling,” he replied. 

“Why were you coming from the wrong direction last night?” 

He blinked, taken aback by the question. Then he dropped her hands, which made her all the more nervous. 

“I went to Lord Grantham’s room to see if he had a spare dinner jacket I could wear,” he said. 

She held his gaze intensely. 

“And can Lord Grantham attest to that?” she continued. 

“I’m afraid not,” he said with a shrug. “He had already gone down. Why do you ask?”

She shook her head to clear it. Speirs had to be wrong. And if he was wrong about that, she considered that he was also wrong about her. She was a strong woman, she figured. She knew what she was about - tradition, family, position. She had walls up to protect those things. Speirs wanted to blow them up. Edward wanted to fortify them. She knew which was safer. 

“Just curious,” she said. 

“An odd moment for such a question,” he returned. “But no matter. I know I’ve rattled you a bit, so I’ll let you be. But just to be sure, am I forgiven?”

She smiled at him. “Of course you are.”

“Excellent,” he said. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

He left her, closing the door softly behind him. She smirked. Whatever doubts she had, she knew she could work through them. If only Speirs would butt out, it would go a lot smoother.

The afternoon wore on. Sybbie and Roe returned from the hospital and then went to have tea in the library with George. The house continued quietly about the day. Until Edith poked her head into the library.

“Have any of you seen Marigold?” she asked. “I haven’t seen her since breakfast.”

“I haven’t either,” said Sybbie. 

“I’ve been with Sybbie, m’lady, I’m sorry,” Roe added. 

George shook his head. “Afraid I haven’t, Aunt Edith. Perhaps she went to -”

He was cut off by a loud, feminine voice booming through the entrance hall. 

“Yyyyyyyyyyyyyou must rembemb - _hic_ \- er this,” the voice sang. “A kiss is just is a kiss, a sigh is jussst a siiiiiiii-haha-hiiii!”

“What on earth?” wondered George. 

The family emerged from their places around the house to the entrance hall where they found Marigold, just barely standing with the help of Dick Winters, singing a slurred rendition of “As Time Goes By.” Her hair was a mess, her jacket was undone, and she was carrying her shoes. She dropped one and it landed with an echoey thud.

“Oh, that’s quite nice,” she murmured. “Issit mine?”

“Marigold, are you drunk?” Edith gasped. 

“I am very drunk,” Marigold replied, looking at Edith through unfocused eyes. “And I inte - _hic_ \- intend on getting drunker before the evening is over.”

George rounded on Dick. 

“How could you let this happen?” the former demanded. 

“I tried to stop her,” Dick insisted. “But she was really upset so -”

“Upset about what?” Edith wondered. 

“I’m afraid that will have to wait for another time,” Nix interjected. “Let’s just get her to bed.” 

“Oh no,” Marigold said sloppily. “Oh, I’m not going to bed, I’m only just gettering started.” 

She tried to take a step and stumbled, but Dick snatched her back upright before scooping her into his arms. She let out a surprised, yet delighted, squeal and proceeded to giggle incessantly. He looked desperately at Sybbie. 

“Where’s her room?” he asked. 

“Right this way,” she said. 

He began to follow her up the stairs, Edith on their heels. Marigold began to relax into Dick’s hold, resting her head on his chest. 

“Oh, that’s - _hic_ \- quite firm-m,” she stammered. “Sybbie, have you felt Dick’s chest?”

“Not yet,” Sybbe returned, bemused. “I reckon I should at least take him to dinner first.”

“Quite so, quite so,” Marigold said, nodding. “Yes, you wouldn’t want to - _hic_ \- offend him.”

Sybbie and Dick exchanged a small laugh. Marigold was looking up at him with affectionate, desperate eyes, and he got worried about what she might say to him once they reached her bedroom. His fears were realized when Sybbie opened the door, and he walked Marigold over to the bed and placed her on it. 

“Dick,” she sighed. “Kiss me.”

He fluffed her pillow before cupping her cheek. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t do that,” he said. 

She pouted. “You don’t want to?”

He shook his head. “That’s not it. You’re just very drunk and there are rules about things like that.”

She closed her eyes to the feel of his warm hand on her skin before she hummed happily.

“Just as well,” she conceded. “If we kiss I’d like to - _hic_ \- remember it.”

He chuckled. “Some privacy would be nice too.”

She cracked her eyes open and peered around him at Sybbie and Edith before giggling again. “Golly, I forgot about them.”

“Get some rest, Marigold,” he said gently. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“G’night,” she replied, settling into her pillows.

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Sybbie said. “I’ll take it from here.”

She nodded toward Edith too, assuring her that Marigold would be fine. Edith followed Dick out into the corridor. 

“What was she so upset about, Lieutenant?” she asked again. “This is so out of character for her, it must have been horrible.”

“You need to have the conversation with her,” Dick said. “But to ease your mind some, I can give to the gist. She pieced together the story of you and Michael Gregson.”

Edith’s hand flew to her mouth to cover her sharp gasp. 

“It’s true then?” Dick asked. “Marigold’s your daughter?”

Edith only nodded, her eyes wide and watery. She took a deep, unsteady breath.

“Thank you for getting her home,” she said. “I’ll speak to her in the morning. The thing is, I’ve got more troubling news for her.”

“What?” he wondered.

“There was a bombing in London a few days ago, right after she arrived home at Downton,” Edith said. “The magazine and every office in that building was destroyed.”


	8. Chapter 8

Christmas came to Downton, with Easy Company as honored guests. Marigold recovered, though had a headache most of the day. She was avoiding Edith like the plague. The latter had given Marigold the news of the magazine, and then Marigold refused to discuss anything else. She shut down. Then, she went about her day as if it were normal. Dick whispered to her at dinner to question her, but she told him only that she didn’t want to spoil Christmas before she went back to eating. 

He found her response very strange. She of course apologized for her drunkenness, but outside of that, she would not talk about the revelation in regards to Lady Edith. 

After dinner, everyone played games and Sybbie retrieved the record player for some music. A few people began to dance, but Caroline went over to Speirs.

“You were wrong, by the way,” she said. “I asked Edward about coming the wrong way, and he explained it all quite sensibly. He had gone to Lord Grantham’s room to see if there was a spare dinner jacket anywhere.”

“And you believe that?” Speirs asked. 

She nodded, forcing herself to look certain. He almost smirked because he could tell she wasn’t. That flickering glance away from him told him so. 

“Alright, then,” he said, and he shrugged. 

“Thank you,” she said. 

He raised an eyebrow. “For what?”

“For not fighting with me,” she told him. “I’m very tired of fighting. And it’s Christmas.”

“In the spirit of our newfound friendship,” he said, holding out his hand. “Wanna dance?”

She scoffed. “Is that what we are now? Friends?”

He rolled his eyes and groaned. “Caroline, shut up and take my fucking hand.”

She blinked, surprised at the language, but hastily obeyed. He led her in a waltz, which put a smile on her face. Speirs warmed at the sight. As much as he enjoyed seeing her fiery and determined, a soft smile was even more beautiful. 

Marigold was not in the mood to dance. She sulked in the corner, nursing a glass of champagne. Dick stood beside her. He considered asking her to dance, but thought better of it. Instead, he nudged her arm.

“Would you like to go somewhere quiet?” he asked. 

She nodded. Taking his arm, they slipped out quietly and headed for the library. They took seats on the couch. Marigold placed her drink on the table. 

“How are you feeling?” he wondered. “You’ve taken in a lot the last few days.”

He had been honest with her earlier and told her that Edith confirmed her motherhood. Marigold had hardly reacted. 

She looked away from him now, eyes focused on the fire dancing in the fireplace. The warm glow made her skin look like art. But at the same time, warm and inviting. If they were in a movie, he would have been expected to reach over and cup her cheek, and ease her troubles with an assuring monologue followed by a kiss. But this was life. And Dick knew she didn’t need any more confusion. 

“I feel sort of numb,” she said. “I’m devastated by the loss of the magazine, to be sure. Especially now that I know it was technically my inheritance. But I’m more saddened to know that I was lied to. I wonder if they would have ever told me if I’d never found out.”

“You said yourself, you never asked the questions,” he reminded her. 

“I shouldn’t have to,” she said. “They’re my family. At some point, I had a right to know that it is by blood.”

He reached out for her, but not aiming for her cheek. It was her hand. Which she gladly gave to him. With her life falling apart, Dick was some solid ground for her. She didn’t know if she wanted him as a friend or as something more, but she couldn’t think about that now. 

“You’re right,” he said. “I’m sorry. I wish there was something I could do to make it easier on you.”

She half-smiled. “That’s sweet of you, but there’s nothing. Aside from lending an ear, which you’ve done more than enough of.”

“I’m happy to do it,” he said. 

A beat passed, and she gave his hand a squeeze. 

“I think I’m going to head back to London tomorrow,” she said. “I can’t stay here.”

“You’re not going to talk to them?” he asked. 

She shook her head. “I’m not up for it just now. I need to do something about the magazine employees, file an insurance claim, and all that nonsense. I need purpose again.”

“But what purpose will you have after that, without the magazine?”

“I’m not sure,” she said. “Ever since I got back from France, I haven’t felt like myself. And now of course I realize I’m not even who I thought I was. But the Resistance made me feel so much more...I don’t know. Alive? Important? Patriotic?”

He chuckled. “Difficult to pin down, I see.”

“Yes,” she said. “Of course, I know there’s no way for me to safely return to Paris, but I wish I could go back.”

“You can’t avoid your family forever, Marigold,” he said gently. “Get away if you need to, but talk to them. They love you.”

Her eyes watered with fresh tears. “I love them too. Dearly. But this is...impossibly large. I feel like it’s going to crush me.”

“My advice is, don’t endure it alone,” he said. “They’re hurting too. Take it on as a family.”

She nodded, a tear sliding down her cheek. Her bottom lip quivered. She bit it in a futile attempt to stop it, but the sob emerged anyway. Then, she fell into his arms. He took her up, stroking her hair, and whispering soothing words to her. 

“Have a good cry,” he said. “Let it out.”

She did. 

Neither of them noticed that Sybbie was closing the door softly. She had nearly interrupted their moment in search of something specific she wanted to read before bed. And she was about ready to head up. But after hearing Marigold breakdown, she backed slowly out of the room. She didn’t know why Marigold seemed so resistant to talk to her family about the loss of the magazine, but she hoped her cousin would speak up soon. 

She was heading toward the staircase when Roe found her. 

“Sybbie,” he said, and she found herself pleased at the way he said her name.

“Gene,” she replied. 

“You goin’ up?” he wondered. 

She nodded. “I was going to get something from the library, but I’m afraid it’s occupied.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Nothing scandalous,” she assured him. “Lieutenant Winters is just comforting Marigold.”

“What were you getting from the library?” he asked. 

“A medical journal,” she said. “A new one I ordered specifically because it deals with eclampsia.”

“What’s that?” he questioned with a wrinkle of his nose.

It was cuter that Sybbie cared to admit. 

“I hope it won’t embarrass you to hear, but it’s a pregnancy complication,” she explained. “My mother died of it.”

“It doesn’t embarrass me,” he said. “But I am sorry about your mother. I guess that’s why you were curious.”

“Yes, there’s some new research about a treatment, so I was wanting to read up on it,” she said. “The only time I have to read these days is before bed.”

“You could always send me off if you want to read,” he said. 

She smiled. “Not to be forward, but I’d rather not. I can read a medical journal any time. You are only here another few days.”

“I’m glad to hear it’s so valuable to you,” he said. “Our time together.” 

“You’re a good man, Gene,” she told him. “And we understand each other.” 

He smiled bashfully, and looked at the floor before returning his gaze to hers. 

“Can I walk you up?” he offered. 

She beamed. “I’d like that.”

And so, he walked her to her room. 

George watched his sister and cousins bonding with the men of Easy Company, and found himself a bit jealous. There was a time that he was the one they turned to with their sorrows and their joys. And now, some other men had taken his place. He realized none of the Americans could truly replace who he was in their hearts (though he secretly wondered if he ever had a place in Caroline’s), but as he sat alone in the drawing room, without the women he considered his closest friends, a loneliness came over him. Then he realized he was jealous for a secondary reason. His girls were moving forward with their lives. The only place he was going that he could see was back into combat. 

Then he remembered. The men of Easy Company would be heading there as well. That was all a soldier could really look forward to. Anything beyond that was wishful thinking. 

*******

Christmas at Downton passed. Marigold left for London the following day. Easy Company plus Speirs departed a few days after. George was not far behind them. There were painful goodbyes mixed with expressions of gratitude for the warm welcome they received. Those of them who were closest promised to write. 

After their departure, they still frequently saw each other. Marigold remained in London, following up with all the paperwork for the magazine’s destruction and trying to find a new office. But there were no guarantees. In the meantime, she became involved in the London Air Raid Precautions, so she felt like she might help others from the loss she had endured. She ignored all letters and phone calls from Edith. 

She also saw Dick whenever he had leave. Sometimes, she even went to Aldbourne herself, but there was more for them to do in London. She showed him some historical sights, they enjoyed many lunches and dinners together, but they mostly got to know each other deeply. As spring began to melt the chill of winter, Marigold realized that she was in love with him. But she didn’t want to pressure him, so she kept silent. She was a modern woman, but she felt a confession best came from a man first. 

She was almost certain he felt the same way. When he would walk her home or to the train station, there would be moments - short, but frequent moments - where she was sure he was going to kiss her. He would lean closer and she would brace herself, but the moment never came. There was usually an interruption of some sort. Or he would only back away. She figured he was protecting her heart as well from what might happen if he did not return from war. 

Victoria was similar to Marigold, but she and Joe were full on dating. They went for drinks or dancing and ended each night with a kiss. All the doubts at Downton were forgotten when they were together in London or Aldbourne. She also put the fear of what happened behind her. Though no culprit was ever discovered, she began to slowly feel safe again. Especially when she was with Joe. 

Sybbie was busy at the hospital, so she was not able to come to London often. But she and Roe corresponded almost daily by letter. She had no trouble spilling everything to him - what she was going through at the hospital, her disagreements with her father about doing more, and even the things she read about in medical journals, which were her new favorite things. Roe wrote back with advice, stories of his own, or encouragement. 

Caroline too was back and forth between Downton and London. Her parents didn’t like her to stay too long with the looming threat of air raids still, but she made time to see Edward. She liked him a great deal, and he appeared to like her. She felt a certain passion was missing, but she reconciled that with the fact that a happy marriage did not always require a novelesque desire. They were compatible and similar enough. 

To her own surprise, she had a correspondence as well. With Speirs. Now that they were friends, she did not mind writing to him. Even more shocking was that they had a great deal in common. They shared taste in music, art, books, et cetera. She did not take him for a man of that sort of depth, especially after their initial disagreements, but she enjoyed it. She always looked forward to his letters. And when she could, she would join Marigold to meet up with the guys, and she would dance with Speirs so they could discuss further the things they had written about. She always found herself warm after being in his arms. A feeling which both excited and frightened her. 

Spring heated up into summer. It was early June, and all the girls were in London. Caroline was especially eager since Edward told her he had a surprise for her. She was to meet him at a very fine restaurant, dressed in a beautiful gown and shoes he’d sent for her. It had been so long since she’d had anything new, she could have screamed with joy. It was extravagant and just the sort of thing that delighted her. 

She was getting ready with the help of her cousins. Victoria was perfecting the curls in her hair, while Sybbie and Marigold were straightening out the dress on its hanger. 

“This is awfully beautiful,” Sybbie said. “I wonder what the occasion is.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Victoria giggled. “He’s going to propose!”

Sybbie froze. “You think so?”

“I can’t imagine a man going through all this just for a regular dinner,” Marigold pointed out. “I’m afraid I agree with Victoria.”

“I hope so,” Caroline said. “He came to Downton last week, and after dinner he spent a considerable amount of time with my father and Donk to finish their cigars. I think he was asking for their blessing.”

Sybbie had no idea why, but her heart began to race. This felt wrong. 

“Are you sure you want to accept him?” she asked. “You’re not even twenty. You have so much time to -”

“What’s the point in waiting?” Caroline interrupted. “We like each other, we’re happy, and we want the same things.”

Sybbie bit her lip. “Do you love him?”

Caroline shrugged. “Sure I do. But that’s not the most important thing in a marriage, which I think people have lost sight of.”

“Well, how does it feel when he kisses you?” Victoria asked. 

“I don’t know,” Caroline admitted, blushing. “He hasn’t kissed me yet.”

The other three exchanged a shocked glance. They paused for a beat. 

“What?!” they all three cried in unison. 

Caroline’s cheeks grew warmer as the shade of pink deepened. 

“I’ve never been kissed, okay!” she came out with. 

“Ever?” Victoria gasped. “By anyone?”

“No, I’ve never even come close,” Caroline admitted. “I think Edward wants to, but every time, I find some way out of it.”

“Why?” wondered Sybbie. “Do you not want to kiss him?”

“I think I do,” Caroline said. “I just would rather it be something special.”

“Gracious,” Marigold said. “I’d have never believed you were such a romantic.”

There was a knock on the door and Aunt Rosamund poked her head in. 

“Letter for you, Marigold,” she said, handing out the parcel. “Caroline, you look lovely. I can’t wait to see the dress on.”

Caroline beamed, trying to forget the humiliation of the past five minutes. This was it. She needed to be happy because this was the first day of the rest of her life. 

Marigold tore open the letter and scanned it. Her face fell. 

“Oh no,” she sighed. 

“What is it?” Sybbie wondered. 

“Dick wrote to tell me all leave was cancelled,” Marigold said. “If we want to see them - and he says we should come - we’ll have to go to Aldbourne.”

“It isn’t far,” Victoria said. “Did he say why we should go instead of wait for next time?”

Marigold swallowed. “I get the feeling something big is about to happen. He wasn’t specific, but he did urge us to come.”

“Are they shipping out?” Sybbie asked. 

Marigold only shrugged. “I can’t say. But we should go first thing in the morning.”

“Very well,” Sybbie agreed. 

Caroline frowned. The thought of all of them going saddened her in a way she couldn’t explain. In spite of all her efforts, she liked those men. They were fun, and she considered them friends. And if they were heading to the continent, many of them would never return. 

“Come on, Caroline, time for the dress,” Victoria said. “We can’t let this ruin your big night.”

“Who knows?” Sybbie teased. “Maybe you’ll finally get your kiss.”

“Maybe,” Caroline said distantly. 

They helped her get dressed, and then admired her in the mirror for several moments. Then the chauffeur arrived to take her. They all wished her the best of luck, especially Aunt Rosamund and Victoria. 

“I can’t believe she’s never been kissed,” Victoria said. “I mean, they’ve spent so much time together, surely they’ve had the opportunity.”

“I think it’s telling,” Sybbie said. “If Caroline wanted to kiss him, she would have.”

“I think it’s admirable she’s holding onto her virtue,” Rosamund pointed out. “You three would do well to take a little after Caroline.”

Marigold snorted. “Her virtue? Heavens, Aunt Rosamund, you’re beginning to sound like Granny Violet.”

“Well, she made some good points,” Rosamund said haughtily. 

“It’s 1944,” Sybbie reminded her. “A kiss is hardly anything.”

“Honestly,” Victoria agreed. “Joe kisses me all the time.”

“And you be careful,” Rosamund said sternly. “Soon enough, he’ll want more. All because you let him kiss you.”

The girls rolled their eyes and went back into the house.

*******

Easy Company was glad to hear that Marigold and her cousins were coming to Aldbourne to see them off. They didn’t know that was the reason yet, but that was for the best. As Dick looked over the sand tables some more, he thought of Marigold and wondered how she would take it. He hoped she would be alright. 

Speirs was excited to see Caroline. He adored her so much. Her pride and stubbornness, as well as her wit and moments of real kindness. She was securely in his heart, though he would never admit it. Except perhaps to her. He wondered if it would be kind or cruel to tell her so before they headed to France to meet their fate. 

Roe was having a similar dilemma. He knew he felt strongly for Sybbie, but things still remained strictly platonic. They had never so much as flirted. In person or their letters. Moments between them were meaningful, but the sense in which they were was lost on him. 

Joe knew exactly what he was going to do. He had to tell Victoria he loved her. He was crazy about her, and he was already beginning to think about marrying her after the war. If he lived, he knew he’d need to. She had given him hope. 

Bill Guarnere went to get the girls from the station, and brought them to the village. During the ride, he told them the news. 

“Now, this doesn’t leave this vehicle, alright, ladies?” he began.

They all nodded. 

“We’re goin’ to France,” he said. “Soon. I won’t tell you the day, but it’s real soon. So show your guys a good time, alright?”

A somber silence came over them. So it was true. They had been summoned for goodbyes. 

They met up with the rest of the guys at the pub. True to their word, they didn’t let on what they knew, and maintained a cheerful attitude. As Victoria and Joe took the dance floor, he prepared to put his heart out there.

“Listen, Victoria,” he said. “I don’t know how long it’ll be before we see each other again, but I gotta tell ya something.”

She held his gaze with a soft smile. “Go on, then.”

He took a deep breath. “I, uh...well...Victoria, I’m in love with you.”

Her smile widened as her eyes watered. 

“Oh, Joe,” she sighed. “I’m in love with you too.”

They laughed and kissed on it. 

Marigold and Dick were only a few couples away, but had not noticed Joe and Victoria. Marigold was too wrapped up in finding out what Dick knew about what was coming. He told her as much as he could - which was very little - but she appreciated the honesty. 

“Promise you’ll write,” she said. 

He nodded. “When I can.”

“I will too,” she replied. “Promise to look after yourself.”

“I’ll do my best,” he said. 

“Promise you won’t do anything reckless.”

“I will,” he chuckled. “Can you promise me something?”

“Anything,” she told him.

“Talk to your family,” he said. 

She sighed, annoyed. Of course he asked her something that had nothing to do with him. He was so selfless. 

“I will,” she said. “Anything else?”

“Only the same things I promised you,” he teased. 

They looked at each other for a long moment as they slowed to a stop. The music carried on but neither of them could hear it. And then Marigold decided tradition be damned. She stood on her toes and just barely pressed her lips to Dick’s, giving him the opportunity to refuse her. But he didn’t. He instead wrapped her up in his arms and kissed her right back. It was chaste and sweet, but meant the world to them both. 

Caroline sat at a table and Speirs appeared seemingly out of nowhere. He took a seat next to her. She scooted away from him with a frown. His brow furrowed for he knew this to mean there was something the matter. Something she didn’t want to say. 

She knew she should have been ecstatic about it, but she dreaded telling him what had happened. He didn’t speak. He was going to make her go first. 

“Lieutenant, I…” she trailed off. 

Why was she feeling so guilty? What did it matter to him?

“Yes?” he pressed.

“I’ve got some good news,” she said. 

“Oh? What is it?”

Her stomach churned. Every part of her was screaming not to tell him, especially her heart. But she had to ignore it. She made a promise to someone. So, she held up her left hand, on which glittered a stunning diamond ring. It was a fine, emerald cut stone, set on a slender gold band. It was just the sort of ring Caroline deserved. But oddly he felt it didn’t suit her. 

“I’m engaged,” she said. “Edward proposed last night, and I accepted.”

“Congratulations,” he replied blankly. 

He had forced his face to turn to stone so she would not see that he was wounded. She gazed at him, waiting for him to say something else. Anything else. But he just had that neutral stare. Until he stood up. 

“I’m going for a smoke,” he said, and was gone before she could reply. 

*******

The next day, the girls went with the villagers of Aldbourne to see the men off. Some hearts were full, some were broken. But all wondered which of the objects of their hearts would be returning. 


	9. Chapter 9

_ Dear Dick, _

_ I did as I promised. I finally went home to Brancaster Castle to speak with Edith. I’m writing this letter from my childhood bedroom there. I hope someday you can see this place. It’s so beautiful and peaceful, which reminds me of you. _

_ My conversation with Edith went very well. She filled in some details about her romance with my father, which I realize now was more well-intended than I originally thought. I believe I said to her “I just can’t believe I’m the product of a lustful affair!” To which she replied, “No, darling. You are a product of love.” Which entirely changed my thoughts on the matter.  _

_ You were right. Speaking to her was best and helped me feel alright again. And it is so good to know my family is exactly that - my true family. My cousins don’t know the truth of it, and for now, I’m keeping them in the dark. I don’t want to bring any needless shame on my mother, especially now that Caroline’s engagement is announced. It feels marvellous to call Edith my mother. She has always been in the role, anyway.  _

_ I’m going back to London soon, and stopping at Downton on my way. I’m supposed to pick up Caroline and take her with me, so she can meet with a seamstress about her wedding dress. I believe she and Edward are planning a Christmas wedding. I will say, she is a rather cool bride. Not over-excited or anything. Extremely practical about the whole thing. I’m not totally surprised, as she is very like her mother, who was never prone to girlish fits or fancies.  _

_ I do hope you’re faring well. France can be rather wet this time of year. Tell the boys hello from me. I’m keeping you all in my prayers.  _

_ Yours,  _

_ Marigold.  _

***

When Marigold and Caroline reached London, they went their separate ways for a while. Marigold had a meeting at the bank regarding some money Michael Gregson had left behind. Edith had never touched it. Marigold was hoping it was enough to get a new place for the magazine, or at least a down payment somewhere. 

Caroline had her dress fitting, and then she was going to meet Edward for lunch. She had debated writing to Speirs, but decided against it. If he had a problem, he could tell her so. But she was much too proud to beg for a man’s attention. 

Her dress was the one her mother wore to her first wedding to Matthew. Caroline didn’t like the idea of taking away freshly produced fabric from the war effort. She needed a few things altered, though. Caroline was not as tall as Mary, though she was quite as thin. In that regard, she wanted to bring the waistline up a little, to be more modern and flattering. She had some other extra fabric to be made into a train.

She considered wearing Mary’s wedding outfit to Caroline’s father, Henry, but it wasn’t grand enough. Mary’s first wedding gown was more Caroline’s style. Mary was happy to part with the gown and give it new life, especially for her daughter. 

After the seamstress, Caroline walked to meet Edward at the restaurant. But when she spotted him, an unexpected other guest was at the table as well. It was a very harsh looking man, with a thick mustache and untidy hair. His clothes were well-worn and faded, though they appeared to fit him alright. He and Edward were leaning over the table and speaking in hushed voices, despite the fact that they were clearly arguing. The stranger’s face was red and he huffed at everything Edward said. And as Caroline got closer, she realized they were not even speaking English. 

Edward caught sight of Caroline’s approaching form, and he hit the stranger on the arm. 

“ _ Ruhe! _ ” he hissed. 

He then softened his expression and beamed at Caroline, getting to his feet to take her jacket and pull out her chair. 

“Hello, darling,” he said, kissing her cheek. “I’m so sorry, my meeting with Fred here has gone just a tad over schedule.”

“Quite alright,” she assured him. 

She extended her hand to Fred. He looked at her like he might spit on it, but instead shook it swiftly. She shrugged it off and took a seat. 

“Will Fred be joining us?” she asked, looking at Edward.

“No, he was just leaving,” he said. 

He met Fred’s gaze and a heated tension passed between them. Fred’s frown grew impossibly deeper. He got to his feet sharply, nodded at Caroline, and then he swept away and out of the restaurant. 

“Well, he’s friendly, isn’t he?” she joked. 

Edward grimaced. “He’s just one of those people.”

“What language were you speaking?” she wondered.

“French,” he told her. “I’m sorry he didn’t address you properly, he doesn’t speak English well.”

“I see,” she said. “It’s a shame I don’t remember more French from my school days. I was always dreadful at the subject.”

“Your charming voice would be wasted on a language like French,” he replied. “I don’t have a taste for it myself, but business is business.”

“Oh, don’t let’s talk about things like business,” she said. “I’ve just been to my first fitting for my wedding gown, and I couldn’t be happier.” 

“Well, then,” he said. “I do believe some champagne is in order.”

She giggled. “It’s not a special occasion!”

“Darling, each time I see you is a special occasion,” he returned. 

They laughed together as he ordered a bottle. 

_ *** _

_ Lieutenant Speirs,  _

_ I must say your letter surprised me. I had no idea Caroline had friends in the US Army. Much less, one who cared enough to go asking questions about her new fiancee.  _

_ I’m afraid there’s not much I can say about my heir. Edward and I don’t really get along, as I find him irresponsible, especially in regards to finances. We’ve had too many rows about it to keep count. His father left him a small fortune, which he spent quickly, making several extravagant trips to the continent before the war broke out. He was most commonly in Munich, I believe.  _

_ He returned home without much left. So he came to me, asking for some of his inheritance upfront, which I refused. The truth of the matter is, my title is about all that comes with his inheritance. Downton Abbey is one of the few old estates that is still making money. Mine is barely getting by, and I believe we will be selling large portions of it soon. We tried to adapt, but it’s become too much. My family and I are looking forward to moving to London permanently, and ridding ourselves of a responsibility that is frankly overwhelming.  _

_ But even selling my estate does not guarantee Edward enough money to live on. Not the lifestyle he wants to live. I believe he had his sights on the Crawleys some time ago, he just didn’t know where to go first. I think he wanted Victoria Aldridge initially, but when he learned of her father’s background, he lost interest. Marigold and young Sybil were out because of their parentages. But Caroline is ingrained in the estate, which is still making money. And that is precisely what he needs. A large sum (which he will receive upon my death), and then income to follow.  _

_ He made the mistake of discussing this with me. The Crawleys are my dear friends, so to hear them spoken of as commodities for him to use for his own benefit offended me. We had it out once and for all, and haven’t spoken since. I have been meaning to take a trip to Downton to disclose all this to Mary, but I don’t know how I could without drawing Edward’s suspicion.  _

_ Since I haven’t been in contact with him, I don’t know Edward’s feelings toward Caroline. They could be perfectly genuine, though I daresay he never showed much interest in marriage before he lost his money.  _

_ I apologize if this isn’t what you were looking for. I do hope I helped.  _

_ Regards, _

_ Anthony Foyle _

_ Viscount Gillingham  _

Speirs crumpled the letter in his hands. He still believed Edward was the culprit behind the flag on Victoria’s door, and to learn that the man had spent time in Munich prior to the war added to that idea. But Speirs was further sickened by what Lord Gillingham wrote about Edward’s financial needs, and the way he had talked about the girls of the Crawley family. 

He felt compelled to take action, but he was stuck in France. D-Day had proven a welcome distraction from his feelings for Caroline, but now they had taken Carentan and things had quieted down again. He wasn’t sure what to write back to Gillingham other than a thank you, and he was grateful. But now that he had the information he was quite unsure what to do with it. Sending it straight to Caroline would only infuriate her, and besides, Edward was there to explain away whatever the implications may be. He had done so with the flag, and he would do the same now. Speirs had to get hard proof against Edward, but he would need allies in this fight. 

Then it hit him. He folded up the letter, wrote an explanation of his own thoughts, and sent it to Downton Abbey. Only, he addressed it to Lady Mary Talbot. 

***

_ Dear Sybbie,  _

_ I thought that after seeing everything you showed me, I would be prepared for what I would see in combat. I was wrong. Nothing could have prepared me for the horrors of all this. It’s one thing to see men in recovery, it’s another to see them get torn apart right in front of you. I’m sorry if that sounds morbid, but I know you’re strong enough to hear it.  _

_ I think a lot about your talent. I know your father is opposed - and I don’t blame him - but I think you would be valuable as a nurse in the field. You’re calm and collected, with a soothing nature. I’ve told you all this before, but I think it’s important again now.  _

_ Most of Easy Company is okay. The invasion went pretty sideways, and we lost a lot of guys across the drop zone. Our own company commander is still missing, as is everyone that was in his plane. It’s been weeks now, and there’s still no sign of them. We’re beginning to lose hope.  _

_ Luckily, we have Lieutenant Winters. He’s acting company commander now, and I must say, he’s doing a fine job. He’s a real combat leader. Like he can see what might happen before it does. And he’s one of the few officers who really cares about his men. If he and Marigold end up together, she’ll be lucky. He will too, now that I think about it.  _

_ I hope you’re doing okay and that you and your father are getting along better. You mentioned in your last letter you’d had another pretty serious fight. I’ve heard the Irish can be pretty stubborn, so I wouldn’t hold your breath for him to change his mind. But do remember you’re a grown woman, and can make your own way in life.  _

_ How are your medical journals coming along? What else have you learned? I actually enjoy getting the secondhand accounts from you. You make difficult subjects sound so easy. And don’t feel like you’ll embarrass me with the topics. I promise I don’t embarrass easily. And I like the distraction your descriptions provide.  _

_ Well, we’re moving out again soon. I can’t say where, but nowhere is pleasant here.  _

_ Hope you’re well.  _

_ Yours, _

_ Eugene Roe _

Sybbie looked up from the letter. She was about to remark on its contents to her family, but the look on Mary’s face stopped her. 

“Aunt Mary?” she questioned. “What is it?”

Robert, Tom, and Henry all looked at Mary as well. It was a rare morning where she was joining them for breakfast, and it was a good thing she had. She had a letter. She was staring at it now with a troubled expression. 

“Mary?” Tom pressed. 

Mary’s eyes were glued to the paper. Her chest began to heave. 

“Darling, what’s wrong?” Henry asked, putting his hand on his wife’s shoulder.

Mary clapped her eyes on Henry. “Nothing important. I’ve got to make a call. I’ll see you all later tonight.”

With that, she pushed her chair back, got to her feet and hurried out of the room. 

“I wonder what that’s about,” Sybbie said. “She seems to be in an awful hurry.” 

“From what I could glimpse the letter was from Tony Gillingham,” Henry said. 

Tom’s brow furrowed. “Gillingham? God, I hope he’s not sweet on her again.” 

He and Henry shared a laugh. Sybbie gawked. 

“What?” she cried, amused. “Lord Gillingham used to fancy Aunt Mary?”

“It was years ago, right after Matthew died,” Tom explained. “Nothing ever came of it.”

“Thank goodness,” Henry joked. 

“Still, I wonder if it had anything to do with Caroline’s engagement,” Sybbie said. “By the look on her face, it wasn’t good news.”

Tom frowned at his daughter. “Do you doubt the success of the soon-be-weds?” 

“It’s not Caroline I doubt,” she answered. “But Edward doesn’t seem to be as devoted to her as she is to him. And he proposed so quickly. To a girl who’s so young. And he doesn’t want to wait until after the war or anything. He just seems...too eager to marry a girl he just sort of likes.”

“He was quite moving while asking for my blessing,” Henry said. “I don’t think you’re being fair, Sybbie.”

She shrugged, unwilling to argue the point. How could she, when she wasn’t around for that meeting? 

“Maybe,” she said. “I just don’t fully trust him, that’s all.”

***

_ Dear Caroline, _

_ I’m so sorry it’s taken so long, but I must offer you a big congratulations on your engagement! I’m quite the proud big brother. I know you will make a fine wife for Mr. Foyle. At least, there will never be a dull day with you by his side.  _

_ I must say I have no excuse for the delay in my letter. We’ve been training for several different operations, which have all led to nothing. Your boys in Easy Company have been in France for weeks now, and I keep thinking we’ll go and back them up, but then the plans change. We haven’t deployed yet.  _

_ Lying in wait makes me anxious, so to get good news from you was a warm welcome. Thank you for that.  _

_ I know you don’t believe me, but I do love you, my darling sister. I wish you every happiness in the years to come. And if you ever need your big brother, I will be there. Whether you like it or not.  _

_ Raise a glass for me! _

_ Such good luck, _

_ George _

***

_ Lieutenant Speirs,  _

_ I’ll thank you very much to keep your nose out of other people’s business. You’ve got some nerve asking Lord Gillingham questions about his heir - as if that is information someone like you is entitled to. Now, because of his poor opinion, he’s gotten my mother all riled up over nothing. So what if he was reckless with money in his youth? He was a young man! We’re all allowed to make mistakes! _

_ I’ll have you know that Edward is quite self-sufficient now. His business makes no sense at all to me, but he does well for himself. He will be able to care for me. I don’t even know why I’m defending him to you, as you are not owed an explanation for any of this. Why are you so desperate to make Edward into something he is not? First, it was a Nazi sympathizer and now it’s a scheming conman? Just leave us alone! _

_ And to think I had half a mind to invite you to the wedding. Well, rest assured, you would be as unwelcome as an uninvited guest! I realize the redundancy, you need not point it out.  _

_ Regards,  _

_ Caroline Talbot _

Speirs smirked as he closed the letter. It was laughable because she had felt the need to defend her engagement to him. She barely even wanted to tell him she was engaged in the first place. But she cared enough to tell him, and she cared enough to write to him now and start an argument. She cared about him. 

He tucked it into the breast pocket of his uniform, to be close to his heart. 

***

It was months before the regiment withdrew from France entirely and returned to England. France was liberated. Paris belonged to its people again, which thrilled Marigold. She meant to return as soon as it was safe, having no luck with the magazine anymore. 

In the heat of August, Easy Company was back on friendly shores. Marigold invited them to her flat for a celebration and a way to release some of the tension she was certain they were holding after weeks in combat. She invited her cousins, of course, as well as some other friends so that there would be a balance of mixed company. 

She was setting some things up when she got a phone call. She picked up the receiver. 

“Hello?”

“Marigold, it’s Caroline.”

Marigold’s brow furrowed. Caroline sounded upset. There was a crack in her voice which indicated she might have been crying. 

“Are you alright?” Marigold asked. 

Caroline sniffled before answering. “It’s fine. But I’m afraid I can’t come to your party tonight. Edward and I have had a sort of fight, and I’m just...I can’t face him.”

“Well, I should think a party is a perfect excuse to avoid Edward,” Marigold said. 

“No, I’m sorry, I meant…” she trailed off and Marigold understood. Caroline meant she did not want to face Speirs. 

“I see,” Marigold said. “Well, that’s alright, darling. You take all the time you need. And if you’d like to come over and talk or anything this afternoon, I can make us some tea and -”

“No, thank you,” Caroline cut across her. “I’m going to Aunt Rosamund’s and I just want to have an early night in. Thank you for understanding.”

“Of course,” Marigold said. “Let me know if you -”

Click. And then a dial tone. Marigold sighed. She wondered what they might have fought about, but there was still much to be done. 

The men seemed grateful for the party, but they were not the same men the girls had said goodbye to. There was more behind their eyes than before. They had seen things that would haunt them forever. And the war was not over yet. 

Roe and Sybbie were quick to reconnect. She was so relieved to see him smile. So many soldiers went to war and lost all sense of joy, but Roe’s smile was still wide when he greeted her. She prayed it would remain so. 

Marigold and Dick said an awkward hello at first. Then he bent to kiss her cheek. It was his way of telling her he was glad of their reunion without feeling like he was embarrassing the people around him. She had already arranged for them to have a private celebration the following night, with a dinner out and everything. 

Joe and Victoria were of course wrapped up in each other. 

Speirs noticed that Caroline was missing. He had only come to the party to see her, so that they could talk about the letter from Lord Gillingham and what it meant. He knew she would be at her aunt’s house, so without a word to anyone, he left the party and headed there. 

He found Caroline outside on the front steps, crying. She looked up when he stopped in front of her, but she didn’t bother to hide it. She was too upset. 

“What did he do?” Speirs asked, taking a seat beside her. 

“I went to surprise him at his flat,” she choked out. “And there were a few other men there, and I suppose I wasn’t meant to see them because he went mad. I mean, he just started screaming at me.”

Speirs frowned. “What was he saying?”

“That I had no business showing up unannounced, a good woman knows her place, things like that,” she explained through a sob. She wiped away a tear that slid down her cheek. “He told me I will do well to remember to stay out of his business going forward. And for a moment, I actually thought he was going to…”

He waited a beat, allowing her to finish, but evidently the thought was too much.

“He was going to what?” he pressed. 

She met his gaze. “I thought he was going to hit me.”

He tried not to let out a furious curse, but he didn’t want to frighten her anymore than she already was. Instead, he leaned back, retrieving his cigarettes from his pocket. 

“Jesus,” he said. 

She scoffed. “I’ll say.”

He pulled a smoke out, put it to his lips, and lit it. Before he could take the first drag, she reached over and took it right from his mouth. He blinked, taken aback. 

“I thought ladies didn’t smoke,” he said. 

“They don’t,” she returned blankly, and then inhaled. 

She coughed a moment, and he had to laugh. Then she handed it back to him while she tried to catch her breath. 

“That’s horrible,” she wheezed. “I thought these were meant to make you feel better.”

“You gotta get used to them, that’s all,” he told her. 

She hacked a few more times, and he smiled. This was as vulnerable as he’d ever seen her. Alone, crying, and not even bothering to be proper or pretty. She was just letting it out. To him, of all people. 

Caroline was surprised at herself. She had thought Speirs was the last person she wanted to see, but she had to admit she was relieved when he appeared in front of her. But she knew he understood her. 

He reached over and took her hand, giving it a small squeeze.

“You’re alright,” he said. 

She held his gaze, eyes misting. “I am now.” 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: Brief description of assault.

Despite what happened, Caroline did not terminate her engagement. But she was also not at a place where she was ready to forgive Edward. Not only had he frightened her, he had humiliated her. He called Rosamund’s house several times, but Caroline would not answer. She knew eventually he would show up at the house, so she arranged to go back to Downton. 

“I’m not sure the silent treatment is the best way to handle a disagreement with a man you’re engaged to,” Speirs said as he sat beside her in the drawing room where they were having tea. 

“Are you defending him now?” she challenged. 

“Not at all, but if you’re going to break it off, do it,” he said. 

She folded her arms across her chest and “hmph”ed at him, which only prompted him to smirk. An action that caused her heart to flutter. She cleared her throat, feeling absurdly like he could hear the sudden galloping inside her chest. 

“The truth is,” she said. “I want to know if you’re right. I want to find out if he’s truly involved with the enemy. And if I cut him out, I’ll never know.”

“That’s dangerous territory,” he returned. “You could just report him.”

“So he can pay off the investigators?” she scoffed. “I don’t think so. No, I want to get it done on my terms and be in the know.”

“And how do you plan to do that from Downton?”

“I am much better prepared to take it on where I have the advantage, and that is at Downton Abbey,” she said. “Barrow is an excellent spy.”

“The butler?” he asked.

She nodded. “Precisely.”

“Don’t you think that’s a bit cliche?”

She shot him a glare. He shrugged and sipped his tea. 

“Besides, wouldn’t the evidence be here in London?” he continued. 

“Which is precisely why he will lower his guard when he follows me to Downton,” she said.

“And you’re certain he will?”

“Positive,” she said assuredly. “I am his fiance. And if what Lord Gillingham said is true, he will not give up my money that easily.”

“This isn’t a ploy to punish him?”

“I won’t lie, I do intend to punish him a little,” she said. “He humiliated me and I don’t take kindly to that.”

“I don’t think it’s the worst thing he’s ever done, but I understand,” he replied. “Just don’t get carried away, alright?”

“I’ll be careful,” she assured him. “I know that what I’m after is risky, and much bigger than my engagement. Which is why I’d like your help.”

He blinked. “My help?”

She nodded. “Yes. You see, Ron, I feel that we’ve reached a place where...I don’t feel the need to put on my usual airs. At least, not all the time. I can just...be myself. And admit that I’m a bit afraid. Of Edward, of what I’m trying to prove, of everything.”

He looked at her, while her gaze was resolutely on the floor. He felt so intensely that she was the most precious thing he had ever laid eyes on. Especially since she had called him by his name. A brutal desire to protect her seeped into his heart. All he could think about was taking her in his arms now. Not kissing her or anything for him. Just holding her tight and reminding her that she was safe with him. He would never allow anything to happen to her. She looked up and met his eyes. 

“Will you come to Downton whenever you have some leave?” she asked. “If I am going to confront Edward, I don’t want to do it alone.” 

“Then you won’t,” he said. 

She smiled gratefully. 

She returned to Downton, for the first time, a bit sad. Ordinarily, nothing made her happier than her home. But she was going to miss her cousins. And Speirs. 

Upon her arrival at home, she went to Thomas’s office. She told him she wanted Edward carefully watched when he came - she was to be informed of any letters or phone calls he received during his future stays. She didn’t disclose her suspicions, but Thomas agreed to all her terms. Operation Expose Edward began. 

He did come to Downton, where Caroline agreed to see him. After taking Edward’s coat and escorting him to the drawing room, Thomas discreetly searched the coat for letters, but found none. Caroline was disappointed, but proceeded anyway. She rang for tea. 

“Caroline, I do hope you know how sorry I am for the way I behaved,” he began. “It was beastly, I know. But I’m afraid I’d had a few drinks and was upset over some poker losses. It truly had nothing to do with you.”

She turned her nose up. “I should hope not. All I really need is assurance that it won’t happen again.”

“I promise to do everything in my power so that it won’t happen again,” he said. “But there is something I want from you as well.”

“I don’t think you’re really in a position to name terms, Edward,” she replied. 

At that moment the tea arrived. Caroline thanked the footman, who left them alone straight away. 

“I think my position as your husband gives me some rights,” Edward continued. “I’d like you to mind me more, Caroline. I am a man and you are a woman, and that’s the way God intended. Wives submit to husbands.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Is that you speaking or some Victorian spirit that has possessed you?”

“Caroline, my God,” he groaned. “I thought you were traditional.”

“Traditional does not mean backwards,” she returned. “I’m not a submissive woman, Edward. I am high-minded and strong-willed, all things you professed to admire about me when you proposed. Do you expect me to change my whole demeanor upon our wedding day?”

“You are a strong woman, and I do admire you for it,” he said. “But I need some respect.”

She set down her tea and got to her feet. “You had my respect, Edward. Unfortunately, you lost it by lowering yourself to a belligerent drunk. You must earn it back now, as my respect has never been freely given.”

He huffed. “I think you’ve been spending too much time with those Americans.”

“Those Americans have been drunk and disorderly around me many times, and none of them have ever behaved as you did,” she said. “If you want me to treat you as a husband, you can start by treating me as your wife. And no countess would tolerate the sort of incivility you showed.”

“Caroline -”

“Just a moment, please, Edward,” she said. “Can we be quite frank with one another?”

His brow furrowed. “Well, certainly.”

She took a deep breath. “I know your estate hasn’t got money left in it. I know I’m your ideal partner because mine does. Let’s not be coy any longer. You want my money, and I want your title. We’re mutually beneficial, not in love.”

“I am fond of you,” he insisted. 

“Just as I am fond of you,” she replied. “But we need not play games. This is not to be a marriage based on passion. We are simply well-suited. But let me explain why you need me more than I need you.”

“Go on, then.”

“I have the money, and the way our parents and grandparents lived is going out of style,” she began. “Should our engagement break, there will be other men with titles to inherit coming to call. How many other girls are there that stand to gain all I will upon my grandfather’s death? Or even, if worst comes to worst, my brother is killed in action?”

He glowered at the floor. She smirked.

“Exactly,” she said. “I repeat. If you want my respect.  _ Earn it _ .”

With that, she swept out of the room. 

Her speech must have been effective. Any time Edward came to Downton afterwards, he behaved like the perfect Prince Charming. Speirs also came to check in, which Caroline could see bothered Edward. Unfortunately, there was still no evidence against him, despite all their best efforts. 

As summer cooled into fall, Edward spent more time at Downton. One weekend, he and Speirs were both there. Edward came into the drawing room just as they were about to have tea. 

“I’ve got excellent news, darling,” he said. “The church in London had a cancellation, so there’s an opening on our date if we want it.” 

She frowned. “Honey, we’ve been over this. I want to be married here at Downton.”

“Don’t call him honey, it makes me crazy,” Speirs blurted out. 

Edward and Caroline turned shocked eyes on him. He cleared his throat. 

“I didn’t say that,” he said. “Just - words - sorry, keep going.”

“Right,” Edward said slowly, facing Caroline again. “Very well, then. I’ll go write the necessary letters and tell them nevermind. I’m heading into the village later anyway.”

“Thank you,” Caroline said. “You’ll be back for dinner won’t you?”

“With a dinner jacket and all,” he promised.

“Very good,” she said. 

He kissed her cheek, ignored Speirs, and went up to write his letters. Caroline looked at Speirs.

“‘Don’t call him honey’?” she questioned with a raised brow. 

“Oh, shut up,” he grumbled. 

She laughed. 

Edward actually returned just after luncheon. Caroline was heading into the library, so she let him in the door instead of having Barrow come from all the way down the stairs. She took his coat as he told her of his errands and she followed him into the library. 

“The post office was mad today,” he remarked. 

“Was it?” she replied politely. 

“You wouldn’t believe…” he rambled on.

As she put his coat over her arm, she felt something. A slight crinkle told her it was a letter. She stiffened. Finally, there was something. 

Caroline slipped the letter out of his pocket. He continued to talk, and she turned her back to him. Luckily, it was unsealed. She carefully removed the letter and opened it up, and the contents astonished her. It was entirely in German, and the signature had the stamp of a swastika beside it. The blood drained from her face as her body went cold. It was true. Edward Foyle, the future Lord Gillingham, was a Nazi.

“Darling, are you listening?” he asked. 

She froze. The moment was finally upon her. She had to call him out and she wasn’t sure how he’d react. He would have to protect himself, for she had caught him in his treason. 

“I…” she trailed off, stalling for time. What could she say?

“Caroline, what is it?” he demanded. “If you’re still angry about what happened in London, you need only say so.”

Her hands began to tremble. She wished Speirs was in the room. Knowing he was just outside wasn’t enough. She hadn’t expected this to happen so quickly. She debated calling for him, but that would give her away. 

“It’s not that,” she said. 

“Then please enlighten me,” Edward returned. “Why are you giving me the cold shoulder all of a sudden?”

She swallowed, fighting the tightness of her throat. She turned around slowly, forcing her face to show a bravery she did not feel. 

“I’m angry about this,” she said. 

He glanced at the letter she held up, and his hand jumped to his pants pocket, where he must have thought he left it. He closed his eyes irritably. 

“Oh, Caroline,” he sighed. “Why did it have to be like this?”

“How could you?” she returned. “You’re one of them? Our enemy? These people have killed our boys, they’ve committed atrocities against innocents, they -”

“Oh, don’t pretend to care about any of those things now,” he said, rolling his eyes. “You’re better than that, Caroline.”

“I am not above humanity,” she shot back. “And these people you associate yourself with do not have any claim to that.”

Fury flashed behind his eyes and he rushed at her. She stumbled backward, but ran into the desk as he towered over her, his face just inches from hers. 

“How dare you!” he cried. “What do you know of it, you ignorant little bitch?!”

Droplets of saliva hit her face with his words. She flinched away from him. 

“The power of the Third Reich is limitless,” he continued. “Hitler has seen the light. He will lead this whole continent into a new, righteous age. Your little American friends are going to die. Your brother will too. All to make way for what is right.”

Her breath shook as he spoke, and he mocked her with a smile.

“But you needn’t fear, my darling,” he said softly. “Submit now. Be a part of the solution. Join me and you will live even grander than our forefathers.”

He took her face in his hand. 

“Two little words will save you,” he said. “Say it. Heil Hitler.”

Caroline glared so fiercely at him that if looks could kill, he would have dropped dead there in the library.

“Fuck you,” she hissed, and she spit in his face. 

It forced him back enough that she wriggled away from the desk. She started toward the door to get Speirs and her grandfather. Edward would have to be arrested. Only, he caught her by the arm and whirled her around. Before she could react, he reared back and slapped her hard across the face. The sound cracked like a whip as she screamed and fell to the floor. 

Her cheek stung and throbbed. She was dizzy from the impact. No one had ever struck her before. Her head spun. She forced herself up onto shaking arms. Then, without warning, his hand was around her throat, and he dragged her to her feet. He pulled her close to him again.

“You’ve made a grave error, Caroline,” he warned. “Crossing me will cost you dearly.”

Her vision was blurring. She couldn’t draw breath. She couldn’t even muster the strength to lift her arms to fight him off. The library began to dissolve around her. She thought of her mother, then of Speirs, and then nothing at all. She was fading, fading...

Suddenly, she hit the floor again. After taking several gulps of air and coughing from the strain, she barely lifted her head. Her senses slowly returned to her and she observed now that Speirs had Edward pinned to the floor. The former was slamming his fist into the latter’s face. Edward was struggling beneath his assailant, but Speirs did not relent until at last there was a small burst of blood and then Edward lay still. His chest still rose and fell, so he was alive, but unconscious. 

Speirs climbed off and went to Caroline, crouching in front of her and cupping her cheeks in his hands. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said gently. “Did he hurt you?”

She reached up and clutched his arm, nodding. Her eyes were filled with fresh, hot tears, which slid down her sore cheek when she blinked. 

“C’mon,” he urged, slowly getting her to rise on her wobbling legs. “Easy. I gotcha. I’m sorry, I should have been faster.”

She shook her head. “No, no, you were right on time. I’m the one who should be sorry.”

His brow furrowed. “What for?”

She held up the letter, meeting his gaze as more tears leaked out. “Because you were right. I’m so sorry, Ron.”

Then, she let out a sob, and she shattered like glass against him. 

When she was calm enough, she rang for Thomas, who fetched Lord Grantham, Tom, and Henry. Mary of course came along anyway. Caroline explained what she found, but spared them the details of the attack, and said only that Edward “lashed out” and frightened her, so Speirs stepped in. Lord Grantham called the police, Henry and Tom secured Edward, and watched him until the authorities arrived. Mary allowed Speirs to take Caroline upstairs. 

Once there, Anna took over. She helped Caroline get washed and into fresh clothes. But Speirs did not leave the corridor. He remained, resolute in guarding Caroline. 

She went to her room and took a seat at her vanity, where Anna offered to brush her hair, but Caroline refused. She preferred to do it herself. So, Anna took her leave, and found Speirs still there, leaning on the wall on the opposite side of the hallway. She sighed. 

“Miss Caroline’s had a difficult day, sir,” Anna said. “I think she needs some rest.”

He only stared at her a moment before looking back at Caroline’s door. Anna was not his concern. She knew when she was being blown off, so she ignored him back, and went to get Mary ready for dinner. 

Caroline let out a long, slow breath, holding her hands out in front of her. She had not removed her engagement ring. It seemed duller somehow, though she knew it to be impossible. She slid it off her finger and placed it in a jewelry dish. It clattered in. 

Then there was a knock on her door, which made her jump with a gasp. She reminded herself that Edward was on his way to prison and it couldn’t be him. So she relaxed. 

“Come in,” she called. 

Speirs stepped through. She smiled. 

“What, you can’t be bothered to barge in now?” she teased.

He smirked. “You must really be feeling better if you’re making jokes.”

She hummed and shrugged her shoulders. 

“I suppose so,” she said. “I feel sort of relieved. My cheek still hurts, and my neck is bruised, but a weight has certainly been lifted.”

He observed her skin as she mentioned it and saw the yellowish gray blooms forming where Edward’s hands had marked her. He frowned. 

“Glad to hear it,” he returned. 

“Thank you for being there,” she said, looking at the floor now. “If it weren’t for you and your courage, I’d have gotten much worse, I’m afraid.”

“And if it weren’t for you, the English aristocracy would still have a Nazi spy among them,” he reminded her. “You wanna talk about courage…”

“My, my,” she said. “I believe you are paying me a real compliment.”

“I haven’t before?” he asked. 

She shook her head. “In fact, last time we were in this position, you called me a stubborn, petulant, annoying little brat.”

He chuckled, and she joined him. 

“Seriously, are you okay?” he asked. 

“I will be,” she assured him. 

A beat passed and she looked him over, trying to hide her blush. Her thoughts of him since the library were entirely unladylike. They were thoughts and feelings Caroline once presumed herself to be incapable of having. She wanted him close to her, to feel the warmth of him, the weight of him on top of her, the touch of his lips. Heat pooled in the pit of her belly, making her ache for him. 

“Well, I’ll let you get some rest,” he said. “Goodnight, Caroline.”

He turned to go, and she knew she had to act. 

“Wait, Ron!” she insisted. 

He faced her again. “Yeah?”

Her skin might have been on fire for how warm it was. She crossed the room and stopped before him. She looked up, for he was a whole head taller than her, and she stood on her toes. Her chest pressed into his. She was so close now, she could feel his breath on her face. It sent a thrilling shiver up her spine. 

“Kiss me,” she whispered. 

Her eyes fell closed as his lips met hers. The spark between their hearts burst into a flame. The remainder of the walls around her crumbled, and turned to ashes. 

Now that she had felt passion, she never wanted it to end. The fever inside her grew. His hands moved from the sides of her face to the small of her back driving her crazy. His lips still mesmerized her. Her heart hammered against her ribcage. She became so lightheaded that she moaned into his mouth.

He pulled away, and she released breathless whine at the broken contact. She was wild for his touch now, pushing herself impossibly closer to him. He smiled and ran his fingers across her upper back, gazing into her eyes. 

“Listen,” he said. “You’ve been through a lot today. Are you sure this is what you want?”

She nodded, grabbing a desperate fistful of his shirt. 

“Yes,” she sighed. “I’ve never wanted anything more than you.”

His eyes searched hers for any hint of hesitation, but there was none. All he saw was a reflection of the longing he’d been feeling. His own desire was hard to ignore. And she was so beautiful all flushed against him. The heat of her was almost overwhelming. 

He kissed her again. Caroline surrendered herself - heart, mind, and body. 


	11. Chapter 11

Servicemen and sweethearts crowded each table at the restaurant, and Marigold and Dick were no exception. It was his last day of leave, and they would be shipping out again for an unknown amount of time. So, Marigold wanted a proper goodbye. 

“I see the press has been hounding Caroline since she discovered the truth about Edward,” Dick remarked. 

“They have, but she’s refused to give any interviews except to one person,” Marigold replied. “She asked me which reporter from my magazine was in most need of a big story, and I gave her the name. She called my reporter and is giving an exclusive later this week.”

“That’s kind of her,” Dick said. 

“Uncharacteristically so,” she replied. “She’s actually been quite pleasant since the whole Edward fiasco took place.”

“Oh?” 

“Yes,” she said. “She walks about, humming or whistling. She smiles a lot. She’s downright cheerful. It’s disturbing.”

He chuckled and she smiled back at him. 

“But let’s not talk about Caroline,” she said. “How are you feeling?”

He swallowed and glanced at the table before meeting her gaze again. 

“It sort of feels like last time,” he said. “It’s a bigger operation, but not as momentous as D-Day. And we’re working with the English, so that’s nice.”

She shot him a forgiving look. “You don’t have to pretend to be pleased about that for my sake, I know it’s not ideal.”

He sighed. “Okay, because honestly, it makes me nervous. Your boys do things a little differently so I’m hoping this will go smoothly.”

She picked at her nails as she pondered what to say next. Her heart was burning for her to admit she loved him. They behaved as a couple, but she feared it might be too soon. 

“When are you heading to Paris?” he asked, pulling her from her thoughts.

“Next month,” she told him. “I’m arranging everything now, which is difficult with so much in ruins after the fighting. But I should be good to go then.”

“You’re going alone?” he wondered.

“Oh, I’ll be perfectly alright,” she assured him, seeing the concern on his brow. “I know Paris quite well, especially after working with the resistance.”

He reached across the table and took her hand, stroking the back of it with his thumb. 

“France will look a lot different than when you left it,” he said. “And the war is still going on. If things don’t go the right way you could get stuck again.”

She turned her palm up to meet his, and wrapped her fingers around his hand. She was surprised at how intimate it felt. 

“I have faith that France is safe,” she said. “And that you will not lose.”

A beat passed. 

“Can you at least tell me the country you’ll be in?” she asked. “So I won’t go mad?”

His gentle smile put her only slightly at ease.

“Holland,” he said quietly. “We’re going to Holland.”

***

George’s thigh was burning. Hot stickiness ran down his leg, which only added to the miserable heat of his wound. Arnhem was still in the distance, and everything around him was falling to pieces. The town grew fuzzy, a blurry outline instead of clear buildings. Someone called out. Was it his name? He couldn’t be sure. His leg hurt too much. He needed to close his eyes. If he could sleep, it wouldn’t burn so much. 

“Captain Crawley!”

That was definitely his name. His eyes fluttered open. He turned his head with a groan and saw the familiar figure of Lieutenant Hardy, his immediate subordinate, executive officer of his company. 

“Captain!” Hardy cried again. “Stay with us, sir. Come on, stay awake. Where are you hit?”

“Leg,” George grumbled. “Where’s the medic?”

Hardy swallowed. “No one’s coming, sir. We were cut off.”

Alertness returned to George. “We what?”

“The Jerries must have known we were coming,” Hardy said. “We can’t get anywhere close to the bridge, and we’re cut off from the battalion.”

George tried to make sense of this. He could still see and hear fighting around him. Were they making a last stand so they would die with dignity? He’d be okay with that. But he certainly preferred to live. 

“Come on,” Hardy said, putting George’s arm over his shoulders before lifting him up. 

George winced. It was a dull ache now, but the movement created a sharp sting. He looked down and saw the blood seeping into the fabric of his uniform pants. 

“I can’t tell if it’s the artery,” he said. 

Hardy glanced at George’s leg. 

“If it were, you’d be bleeding much faster,” he said. “We’ve got to hide with the other lads. Come on.” 

They followed a few other men in matching uniforms behind a row of hedges, which backed up to a house. It was mostly George’s company. He was thankful that he had familiar faces around him, but at the same time, he worried for them. It meant they were as trapped as he was. 

“Listen,” he said. “You all go and try and link up with Colonel Dobie and the rest of the battalion. Leave me here.”

They gaped at him. 

“We won’t leave you for the Germans, sir,” one of his sergeants said. 

A mortar shell went off a few yards away. They all ducked together as the wall behind them shook. When it settled, George rounded on his men. 

“Get the hell out of here!” he insisted. 

They prepared themselves to disobey, but were interrupted by a chirp-like whistle. They all faced it. A young woman poked her blonde head out from behind the hedgerow across the way. She waved them over. On her arm was the orange band of the Dutch Resistance. 

“This way!” she hissed. 

One by one, they made their way over to her. George watched his men disappearing into the foliage and wondered what could be on the other side. He knew the Resistance was probably safe, but how could they possibly get them out of the hands of the Germans? It felt like delaying the inevitable. 

Finally, Hardy helped George limp over, and they carefully got him through the bushes, after a great deal of swearing and pain. He began to feel lightheaded again. The woman who beckoned them took his free arm around her shoulders to assist Hardy. Together, they carried George away from the action. 

“Hardy,” George murmured. “I think...it’s getting worse.”

Hardy and the woman looked down and saw that George’s right pant leg was almost an entirely different color from the left. It was soaked through with blood. 

“Captain,” Hardy said, but George heard it as if through a tunnel. 

His eyes darkened, and he heard one last desperate “Captain Crawley!” before everything slipped away. 

He awoke in a room that was so dark, he questioned if he truly was awake. He knew he must be, since his other senses were working just fine. He realized he was on his back, on a very lumpy piece of furniture. The air around him was cool on his skin, but with a dampness that made him shiver. Stifled voices came from above. 

“Where -”

He was cut off when a hand clamped over his mouth. It was a small, feminine hand, and he recalled the blonde woman from the afternoon. The battle in Arnhem. Where was the rest of the battalion? The rest of his men? He was suddenly panicked with confusion. 

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could make out the shape of the woman. She pressed a warning into his face. So he remained silent. 

He could not clearly understand the voices from above them, but it didn’t sound like English. The sound of boots on hardwood floors were obvious. Some laughter. Then there was silence. Everything was still for a tense moment. 

Suddenly, a light streamed into the room from George’s right. It was coming from some stairs. He realized they must be in a basement. He took in the shapes around him and saw that Hardy was there, the woman, and behind her legs stood a small boy, who couldn’t be more than three years old. His ability to go unnoticed surprised George more than anything. 

“Okay,” said a voice from the top of the stairs. “They’re gone, it’s safe now.”

The woman at last removed her hand from George’s mouth. 

“Where are we?” George wondered. 

“Ede,” the woman answered. “The other soldiers are scattered throughout homes here and closer to the river.”

Whoever spoke from the stairs made his way down, flicking on a light which illuminated the entire basement. 

“Welcome,” the man who spoke said through a thick Dutch accent. 

He was older, about George’s parents’ age, with thick gray hair, and kind blue eyes. 

“My name is Piers Mondeel, and this is my daughter, Katrine, and my grandson, Rudie,” he said, introducing the woman and little boy as well. “You are safe with us, but I’m afraid you’re stuck here until we can find you a way out.”

“And your leg has been bandaged, but we’ll need to keep an eye on it,” Katrine said. “There might be some infection.”

“We’ll watch it,” Piers said. “Now, would you mind telling us who you are?”

“I’m Lieutenant -”

“Hold on,” George interrupted. “How do we know we can trust you?”

Katrine released what must have been a Dutch expletive. It sounded venomous, but she rolled her eyes as well. 

“We just saved your life,” she reminded him sharply. “And we’re hiding you in our basement, at great risk to our own safety.”

It astounded him how small she was able to make him feel with so few words. 

“Right, sorry,” he said. “Can’t be too careful, though.”

She only stared at him expectantly. 

“I’m Captain George Crawley, and this is my executive officer, Lieutenant John Hardy,” George explained. “Thank you for your help.”

“That’s better,” she said. “Now, get some rest. Dinner will be soon.”

She marched up the stairs, calling her boy after her. As he trotted by, George wondered who the boy’s father was, and where he was. Katrine did not wear a wedding band - he would have remembered feeling it when she was squeezing his face moments ago. 

“My daughter has had a difficult time in occupation,” Piers said, shaking his head. “I apologize if she seems unkind.”

“It’s alright,” George said. “Understandable even.”

His stomach gave a demanding gurgle. Now that the pain had subsided, he realized how long it had been since he’d eaten. 

“When is dinner again?”

Piers chuckled. “Coming right up.”

Over the next several days, George and Hardy remained in that basement. Katrine and Piers took good care of them, but Piers was a retired doctor, so it came naturally to be nurturing. Katrine on the other hand was short and stern, with very little patience for anyone except her son, who barely spoke a word. He did, however, go looking through George’s belongings, where he found the stuffed dog Mary had given him. 

“Oh, clever chap, you found it,” George praised as Rudie waddled over and held it out. “Thank you very much.”

Rudie smiled. George handed the dog back to him. 

“You may play with it, if you like,” George said. “You can’t hurt it.”

Katrine was unrolling a freshly washed bandage to replace the ones on George’s leg. Rudie plopped down beside the couch which was George’s designated spot until he was more mobile. That would take some time. As would finding an evacuation plan. 

“What is it?” Katrine asked, gentle as she’d ever spoken. 

“A gift from my mother,” George explained, watching Rudie’s excited face. “She gave it to my father for the last war, and then gave it to me before I went to training.” 

“And your father was okay with parting with it?” she wondered.

“Well, he died, I’m afraid,” he told her. “Not during the war - though evidently there was a close call - but a few years later. The day I was born, actually. Car crash.”

She glanced away. A softness came over her, and George noticed for the first time how pretty she was. He knew better than to remark on it, though.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “It is sad for babies not to know their parents. And it must have been hard for your mother. To have such a great joy, and then suffer that kind of heartbreak.”

“Thankfully, she’s never made me feel badly on my birthday or anything,” George said, trying to lighten the mood. “She goes to his grave though and lays some flowers.”

“She must have loved him,” Katrine said. “Now, trousers down.”

“You have quite the sensitivity, Katrina,” he teased. 

“Katrine,” she corrected. “And not so much ‘ch’ sound in the middle. Use your throat.”

He attempted again, but still did not pull it off. She just shook her head, unsurprised.

“Can’t I just pronounce it English way?” he sighed. 

She glowered at him. “And how would you like it if I pronounced your English name the Dutch way? Joris?”

He chuckled, to her displeasure. 

“Come on,” he joked. “It’s a bit funny.”

She rolled her eyes. “Keep working on my name. In the meantime, you may call me Kat.”

“Oh, no, you mustn’t give me any allowances,” he insisted. “If you do, I’ll never get it right.”

“Very well,” she agreed. “Now. Trousers down.”

He obeyed, shimmying out of his pants to let her get to his wound, fondness blooming inside his heart. And unbeknownst to him, inside hers as well. 

***

It was unseasonably warm in Paris. Especially where Marigold sat on a concrete step, the sun beating onto her face. It felt more like June than October, except for a steady breeze that tossed her hair and cooled her neck. 

She couldn’t say how long Caroline’s appointment would take. She had never been in her cousin’s position. But she didn’t regret bringing her along. Caroline would need to stay out of England for the time being and avoid anyone in society until they knew exactly what the plan was. Caroline was so emotional and confused at the moment, so Marigold whisked her away to Paris with her. 

But she sat alone now while Caroline met with the doctor. Marigold never minded moments like these, as it gave her time to people watch. She never tired of observing strangers, especially in another country, and wondering about them. And every once in a while, she would see a familiar face. 

She spotted one then. A tall redhead who had just been jostled in his seat at the cafe, and he frowned irritably. So, he rose from his seat, left some money on the table for the coffee he nearly spilled, and started back into the street. 

Marigold pushed herself up and approached, a grin on her face. She could never disguise her happiness at their encounters. 

“Bonjour, Monsieur Winters!” she called. 

He turned his head and when his eyes landed on her, he visibly relaxed. With a warm laugh, he came over to embrace her. They kissed swiftly hello. 

“I meant to write, but I realized I didn’t know where you were staying,” he confessed as they parted. “But I was hoping to find you.”

“Well, you have,” she said sweetly. “And I daresay, I’m glad to see you with all the mess that’s going on. But I’m sure you heard about it from Speirs.”

His brow furrowed. “He must not be sharing. Is everything okay?”

“Somewhat,” she told him, lowering her voice. “Caroline is pregnant. She’s here with me in Paris to keep it out of the English papers, and she’s just in there with a doctor.”

He blinked, taken aback. “Caroline’s pregnant?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“And Speirs is the father?”

She nodded. He took a moment to absorb that fully. Speirs was going to be responsible for a child. A baby. A tiny, helpless thing that required nurturing, patience, and love. It was impossible for Dick to wrap his brain around. An image of Speirs holding a child was not something he could even conjure up. 

“He hasn’t said anything,” Dick said. “Though I imagine, he’s trying to protect Caroline by keeping it to himself.”

“That’s probably best,” Marigold said. “I know I don’t have to tell you to keep it quiet.”

“My lips are sealed,” he promised, and a beat passed. “She isn’t...getting rid of it in there is she?”

She was a bit surprised Dick even knew to task that question. But she wasn’t offended by it. Her own mother had considered such action. 

“I asked her if that’s what she wanted and she firmly said no,” she told him. “She wouldn’t hear of it.”

Just then, Caroline herself emerged from the building. She was too early to be showing, but she did have a bit of a glow. 

“Alright, everything’s fine, the baby is safe,” she said to Marigold. “The doctor says I should have the thing around early May.”

Marigold bit back a laugh. Just as Dick was struggling to picture Speirs as a father, Marigold was having difficulty imagining Caroline as a mother. She could be so thoughtless sometimes, and to refer to her own child as “the thing” was so un-motherly. For all her insistence on carrying the pregnancy to term, she did not seem excited. But that was understandable given the circumstances. 

“Well, we’ll do everything we can for you until then,” Marigold assured her. 

“Right,” Caroline said, and only just then did she notice Dick was standing there. “Oh, hello, Lieutenant.”

“Actually, it’s Captain now,” he corrected. 

“Fantastic, congratulations,” she said offhandedly. “I’m sorry I’m not in a better mood. I’m tired all the time and somehow both starving and nauseous. Would either of you mind if I saw myself back to the hotel to lie down and bawl my eyes out?”

“Not at all,” Marigold said, while at the same time, Dick said, “Whatever you need.”

“Very well,” Caroline replied. “Have a pleasant time, and I’ll see you tonight, Marigold. Good luck, Captain.”

She patted them each on the arm and walked off. They watched her go until she disappeared among the crowd. 

“So,” Marigold said. “Shall I show you around Paris?”

“I’d love that,” he returned. “I can’t imagine a prettier tour guide.”

She giggled. He offered his arm, which she took, and they were off. And for a few hours, they were like any other couple. Strolling the streets, taking in the sights, enjoying each other, without the constant reminder of what was going on outside these borders. For one afternoon, Marigold and Dick forgot about the war. 

***

_ Dear Gene, _

_ I’m sorry to hear so many of your boys have been killed or wounded. I’ll keep them all in my thoughts and prayers going forward. I am glad to know that you are safe. Your last letter about Wild Bill taking that bike for a joyride actually made me laugh. I haven’t laughed in a while, so I must thank you for that. _

_ Hospitals are filling up across England. I’m splitting my time between the village hospital at Downton and a London hospital, though I soon plan to stay in London. Marigold has given me the use of her flat as long as I promise to keep it clean, and that is a fair trade in my book. I just feel I can do the most good in London. It’s where they need more help. My father is hesitant to let me go, but I feel I must.  _

_ We have gotten some terrible news. George is missing. He has been missing since the jump into Holland, though I do not know where exactly his unit was. There were some men from the 1st Airborne who were separated from the battalion, and evidently George was among them. Aunt Mary and Donk are distraught. I am as well, though I am trying to stay strong.  _

_ The thing is, George has been more of a brother to me than a cousin. We are closer than he and Caroline, even. To think that he may have been captured (or worse) is keeping me up at night. Our poor George in a POW camp...it breaks my heart. I will not even speak of the other possibility.  _

_ The one thing I have to look forward to is your letters. Please write again soon. I promise next time, I’ll have something from a medical journal, but I’ve been so distressed about George, I haven’t read a thing other than patient charts.  _

_ All my love, _

_ Sybbie _

***

When Dick returned from Paris, he met with Moose about the upcoming Operation Pegasus. He was of course gutted that he wasn’t able to lead it, especially with the high risk, but he had to trust in Moose’s leadership. If anything, he was grateful it wasn’t Sobel. 

He stepped outside to take a break from paperwork and being inside his office. The weather was cooling down, and he missed the warmth of Marigold beside him. He wished he could tell her about Pegasus, but it would never be allowed. But she had written to him about George being missing, and he so desperately wanted to ease her mind. Not that it would be a guarantee. George might not be among the men getting rescued. Colonel Dobie didn’t have a roster of who all was trapped. 

A distraction appeared in the form of Speirs walking past, smoking a cigarette. He nodded at Dick. 

“Captain,” Speirs said. 

“Good evening,” Dick returned. “Though I suppose I should say congrats.”

Speirs stopped and raised a quizzical eyebrow. “For what?”

Dick stepped closer and lowered his voice. “The baby.”

“What baby?”

Dick surveyed Speirs’s face, but the latter seemed genuinely clueless. 

“Caroline,” Dick said. “She’s going to have a baby. Didn’t she tell you?”

Speirs clenched his jaw and looked away, staring violently down the street. 

“No,” he said. “She didn’t tell me a thing.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: Mentions of r*pe, a violent interrogation, death. This chapter is pretty intense!

For over a month, George Crawley lived in a dark Dutch basement. His leg became infected, and he was violently ill for a few days while Piers and Katrine tended to him. Rudie, desperate for some way to help, placed the little stuffed dog in the crook of George’s arm. George did not notice it at the time, but when he was well again, it was the first thing he saw. The second was Katrine’s face, as troubled as he’d ever seen it. And then, she breathed a sigh of relief. 

Piers insisted that George move around to regain his strength, but he had to be careful. He didn’t want to re-injure himself. With Katrine’s assistance, he slowly began to walk again. Piers told him the limp might be permanent, but with more practice, he could disguise it better. George was just thankful to be alive. But that was also a concern. 

Appreciative as he was to Katrine and Piers, he began to feel trapped. He was trapped. They were all behind enemy lines and they could not wait out the rest of the war in Ede. He mentioned so to Katrine one day as she was helping him on his daily walk around the basement.

“Why not?” she wondered. “Are you uncomfortable here?”

“No, that’s not it,” he told her. “It’s just that we must get back to our unit. The longer we stay here the more danger you all are in.” 

“You think we don’t know the risk we take?” she returned. “We are all aware of what it could cost us to do what is right.”

“You shouldn’t have to, is all I’m saying,” he said. “I wish we could - oh, crikey!” 

He hissed with pain and Katrine eased him back onto the couch. He looked up at her gratefully. 

“I think I put too much weight on it,” he said. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“You were too busy talking,” she reprimanded and paused a moment before continuing. “I know it must be frustrating to be stuck here. But trust me. We’re doing everything we can.” 

She knelt in front of him and began massaging his thigh to loosen the muscles. He watched her work and felt an overwhelming sense of guilt. What right did he have to complain when these people were the ones risking their lives? If they were discovered, they would be lined up and shot. Or worse, sent away.

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful.”

She sort of smiled at that. Katrine had a habit of putting his life in perspective, and it made him more aware of the circumstances of others. It also made him count his blessings instead of falling into despair. She forced him to see the bright side through her admonishments. He was certain he would miss them should he get lucky enough to escape this situation. 

Because Hardy usually went upstairs to sleep during George’s exercises, the latter and Katrine were alone. Rudie and Piers were upstairs trying to put something together for dinner, despite the limited food the Germans allowed the Dutch to have. George’s burning question rose again, and now that he and Katrine had a rapport, he felt like maybe he could ask it. Besides, he had an offer to make. He just didn’t want to offend her. 

“Katrine,” he said, having mastered her name at last. “May I ask you something quite personal?”

“I suppose,” she said. “Though I may not answer.”

“You need only say so,” he said. “But, um. Where is Rudie’s father?”

Her hands stopped and the pressure from her fingers lifted from his leg. His skin burned where it yearned for her touch again. She looked up and held George’s gaze, a hurt behind her eyes that was so raw he almost recoiled. But he remained steadfast. 

“Rudie has no father,” she said firmly.

“Is that really your answer?” he returned.

She rose to her full height and looked down at him. He did not shrink away. His eyes flicked to the open cushion beside him, inviting her to become level with him. This conversation did not have to be a power struggle. To his surprise, she took the seat.

“It is never enough to have a mother, is it?” she said. “All anyone wants to know is who the father is. ‘Who does your boy belong to?’ they ask. I cannot just say ‘me.’ Even though I grew him inside me, birthed him with my blood, and nursed him on my breast, without a father, he is an orphan.”

George softened. He reached for her hand.

“May I?” he asked. 

She nodded and extended her own hand. He took it between his.

“I don’t mean to undermine your motherhood,” he said. “Nor to imply that Rudie is an orphan. I know he has a doting family. I asked this because he has shown some real signs of brilliance. He’s very smart, Katrine. And, to repay you for all your kindness to me, I’d like to pay for him to go to school in England. There are some fantastic academies that I -”

“Wait,” she cut across him, shaking her head with her brow furrowed as if she hadn’t heard him correctly. “You what?” 

“I’d like to send him to school,” he repeated. “A nice school, where he’ll -”

“Why?” she demanded. “What does his father have to do with this?”

“Well, I just want to be sure I’m not stepping on any toes by making this offer,” he explained. “And he would likely need both parents to give permission should he be accepted.”

She stared at him, disbelief marking every feature of her face, from her brows to her lips. Her breathing grew deeper, as her chest began to rise and fall. 

“How…” she trailed off. “How can you afford this?”

“I’m to be the Earl of Grantham one day,” he said. “You saved my life, Katrine. I do not take that lightly, despite all my complaining.”

His little joke didn’t land. She was too distressed to take it in.

“It’s too much,” she said. “I couldn’t possibly -”

“Please,” he said. “Let me do this for you. For all of you.”

She looked at him through watery eyes. 

“All I ask is that I know his father will be on board too,” he said. 

She looked away now, but squeezed his hand. He understood this to mean she would tell him, but she was still shocked. She opened her mouth a few times, but closed it again. He waited patiently. 

“His father cannot approve or disapprove,” she said. “That man is dead.”

George blinked, surprised mostly by the satisfaction in her voice as she said it. She was no grieving widow, that was for sure. 

“How did it happen?” he asked.

She hesitated, her fingers wiggling in his hand, but he didn’t release her.

“If I tell you, you might not want to help Rudie anymore,” she said.

“I promise you, that won’t happen,” he said. “Nothing could make me rescind my offer.”

“You don’t even know -”

“So tell me,” he said. “I can’t understand unless you trust me.”

She took a deep, shaky breath.

“This cannot leave this room,” she said.

“You have my word.”

He waited some more, giving her all the space she needed to tell the story.

“The Germans came years ago,” she began. “During the first week of Occupation, we were all adjusting to the new rules. Curfews and those things. I was coming home from a neighbor’s house, but forgot I was too late. I came upon a soldier on patrol.”

She paused. Sweat formed along her hairline and she bit her lip.

“He asked for my papers, but I didn’t have them,” she went on. “And I was honest and confessed I didn’t have a reason to be out late anyway. He looked at me….for a long time. Just looking.”

She took a moment to swallow. It sounded so loud in the heavy silence of the basement.

“He told me he wouldn’t arrest me if I let him fuck me,” she said.

“Christ…” George exhaled.

“I refused,” she continued. “So he dragged me by my hair into a barn and did it anyway. I had never even touched a man…”

He was suddenly more eager than ever to learn how this man died. 

“He fell asleep when he was done,” she said. “When I felt I could move again, I took the knife off his gun and I slit his throat with it.”

He was shocked as she went on to explain that the body was discovered the next day, but she had managed to sneak home so no one was ever able to prove who had killed the German. She never even knew his name. 

It was the most gruesome story George had ever heard. But his respect for Katrine - which was already great - increased tenfold. This poor girl, who was robbed of a precious moment and attacked for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, had gotten justice for herself. But he understood she saw it in a more complicated light. Taking a life took its toll, no matter what the cause. 

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “No one should have to endure what you did.”

“You…” she trailed off with a sniffle. “You don’t think I’m horrible?”

His heart moved with pity. 

“I think you’re the bravest person I’ve ever met,” he said. “You went through something terrible, and I admire you for coming out of it as strong as you have.”

“I murdered someone,” she insisted. “It’s not like what you soldiers do, where you have a fair fight and the better man wins. I killed him as he slept. I -”

“Soldiers act because it’s kill or be killed,” George said. “Do you really think that man would have let you live after what he’d done to you? You were defending yourself.”

“I wish it were that simple,” she replied, and a beat passed. “So I understand if you want to change your mind about Rudie.”

He shook his head and held her hand a little tighter.

“I don’t want to change my mind,” he said. “Truly, Katrine. I don’t.”

She held his gaze. Her red, watery eyes searched his for doubt, but she found none. Only kind compassion. A soft warmth that made his blue irises as safe and entreating as a bath. He was giving. He wanted nothing from her.

And so Katrine fell a little in love with George in that moment. To be understood and appreciated was nothing she had ever felt before. She laid her head on his shoulder, he wrapped his arms around her, and for the first time in years, she truly rested. 

A few more days passed, and George noticed that Katrine seemed lighter. She later confessed that it was the first time she’d told the story. Not even her father knew the truth of Rudie’s parentage. She told Piers that she had been secretly seeing a boy from another village over, who had died during an air raid, and Piers was sympathetic. Katrine told George it would have been too hard to tell Piers - a man who was dedicated to saving lives - that she had taken one. Even if it was in self preservation.

But now someone knew the whole truth. And he didn’t judge her for it. She could be herself, and that brought the best sense of comfort. 

One evening, Piers came down to the basement where George, Hardy, Katrine, and Rudie were all eating their dinner. Piers was jovial, and clapped his hands in excitement.

“Wonderful news!” he cried. “There is a rescue mission in place to get you all back on your side. Your Colonel Dobie has made contact with the head of the Resistance here, and the operation is set to take place tomorrow night. Some Americans are going to escort you out.”

The news was not as welcome as George would have thought. He didn’t want to leave Piers and Rudie and especially Katrine. As badly as he wanted to go home, it would hardly feel like home without them. 

“That’s fantastic!” Hardy cried. “Will Captain Crawley be able to manage it?”

“Certainly,” Piers returned. “He’s walking very well now, and I don’t think there will be a terrible rush. And if you’re able to help, even better.”

“Absolutely,” Hardy said, and he clapped George on the shoulder. “Can you believe it, sir? Finally getting out of here!”

George met Katrine’s gaze. 

“Yeah,” he said hesitantly. “Finally.”

Twenty-four hours later, as night fell, George’s stomach was in knots. He heard the plan and it felt too easy. An awful sense of dread came over him. 

“Something’s going to go wrong,” he whispered to Katrine as he shared his last meal with her. “It doesn’t feel secure.”

“You have no choice,” she returned. “It’s your only chance.”

He nodded. She was right, of course. If they didn’t get out now, when could they? There was no foreseeable end to the war just yet. One way or the other. 

The darkness deepened along with George’s unease. Katrine came down to the basement with Rudie to bring George and Hardy a few last minute things. And then, something strange happened. Piers closed the door behind her. 

They all exchanged a questioning look before a knock on the door followed by a harsh German demand explained it. Katrine hurried to turn off the basement light. They listened with bated breath as Piers opened the door, but the Germans were not bothering with pleasantries tonight. 

The sound of a scuffle and Piers’s surprised shout made George reach out for Katrine to hold her against him. Hardy scooped up Rudie and buried the child’s face in his shirt. 

“WO SIND DIE ENGLÄNDER?” roared one German.

“Uh-uh, hier gibt es k-kein Engländer,” Piers stammered in return. “B-itte -”

The German gave another command and a second, more intense struggle began. They slammed a chair down, causing the foursome downstairs to flinch. Then there was a heavy plunk of something being set down in front of it. George’s heart rate quickened to gallop as he realized they were going to interrogate Piers. The only way Germans knew how.

Piers was pleading with the Germans in disconnected German and Dutch, the panic clear in his voice. The chair creaked as they forced the doctor into it. 

“Noch einmal,” the leader began, and they heard clearly since the set up was right on top of them. “Wo sind die Engländer?”

“B-b-b-bitte, kein Engländer,” Piers blubbered. 

A brief moment of silence passed, and then Piers was sobbing as he implored them. The chair scraped the floor as they grappled with him. They heard a sickening splash and then Piers screamed. Katrine had a death grip on George’s shirt. 

They moved Piers again, and the group in the basement heard him whimpering.

“Wo sind die Engländer?” demanded the German once more.

Piers was panting now, and he must have been shaking as the chair was rattling against the floor. 

“Kein...kein Engländer,” he wept. “Mijn Handen…”

“Nochmal!”

Piers howled through the second round of whatever they were doing to his hands. When they stopped, his breath was coming out uneven and shaky. 

“Kein,” he painted. “Kein Engländer.”

“Erschieß ihn” the German finally said. 

Katrine looked wildly up at George. He shook his head. If they revealed themselves now, they would all be shot, and that was the last thing Piers would want. 

They listened as the Germans manhandled Piers of the chair and forced him to his knees. They heard the cock of a handgun through Piers’s heavy breathing. 

“Voor vrijheid!” he cried out.

BANG.

A nauseating thud.

Silence.

A suspended moment hung there as Piers left the world of the living. Katrine bit down on her lip to keep from wailing, but tears flowed freely from her eyes. George stroked her hair, wishing so desperately he could offer some words of comfort to her, but there were none. And to reveal them now would make Piers’s sacrifice meaningless. 

“Suche,” the German ordered his men. 

Their footsteps scattered throughout the house. They even heard a few begin to climb upstairs. But the basement was carefully hidden behind a bookshelf. And you had to know which book to reach for - a copy of  _ The Hobbit _ , an obscure little tale by a relatively unknown author. It made no statement or symbol, so no one would think to pull it.

Even behind the safety of that precaution, George hoped his pulse wasn’t too loud. It felt like it should be loud enough to lead the Germans straight down the stairs. He could certainly hear Katrine’s, but she was very close to him. So close, they might have been one person. 

The search went on for what felt like hours. Throughout, the four in the basement had to be still and quiet as death. Which was only just above them. It broke George’s heart to think of Piers lying there while Germans rummaged through his home. And with his daughter just below, shaking in the arms of a man she hardly knew. It was the only comfort she had at that moment.

Eventually, they heard the Germans file out and the front door closed. Katrine immediately went for the stairs, but Geroge held her fast, hissing for her to wait. If they went up too soon, the Germans would still be near. So George began to count the seconds. He counted for five minutes, and when no other noise could be heard, he let Katrine go. 

She motioned for them to stay down, and she crept up the stairs. George ached to go with her, fearing for a split second that as soon as she disappeared onto the main floor, it would mean her death as well. Letting her out of his sight meant he could not protect her. A sliver of light shone down the stairs as she peered out, and George heard her wince. 

“Okay,” she said with a croak. “They’re gone.”

George and Hardy, with Rudie in tow, came up behind her. The kitchen looked the same except for the disturbed cabinets, but the living room contained a grizzly scene. Piers lay face down on the floor, blood pooling beneath his head, unmoving. His hands were bright red and raw, with burn-like blisters on them. Beside him sat the kitchen chair, in front of which was a pail of what appeared to be hot water. 

Hardy kept Rudie’s eyes covered. Katrine’s lower lip began to quiver as she knelt beside her father. She released a low sob and then she wept as quietly as she could. George looked at Piers’s hands and tried to make sense of it. 

Then he recalled at time when he was little and Mrs. Patmore had put a kettle on. He and Sybbie were playing with Thomas in the kitchen, Sybbie on Thomas’s back while he trotted around. Her foot knocked the kettle off and the hot water had spilled onto George’s arm. It was scalding, and his skin looked the way Piers’s did now. They had boiled his hands. 

“Goddamn them,” he murmured as Katrine shuddered.

He put an arm around her shoulders. He let her break against him. As his arms wrapped around her, she caught the time on his watch. 

“Oh, no,” she sniffled, and pulled out of his embrace to get to her feet. “I have to get you to the river.”

“Don’t worry about that now,” George said. “Take a moment.”

“She doesn’t have a moment, Captain, I’m sorry to say,” Hardy said. “She’s right. If we don’t leave now, we’ll miss our chance.”

“We don’t even know where to go,” George said. 

“I do,” Katrine said blankly, eyes still fixed on her father’s body. “He showed me yesterday in case anything happened.”

“Katrine,” George said gently. “You don’t have to-”

“I do!” she snapped. “He died to save your life! I will make sure it was not in vain.”

He swallowed, put securely in his place. 

“Let’s go,” she said. 

They followed her wordlessly out of the house. 

***

Easy Company made it across the river with no trouble. The cool autumn air gave no indication of the tragedy that had taken place just moments before. It appeared to be a quiet, pleasant evening. 

Joe Liebgott waited with his squad, kneeling in the soft grass. The first round of Brits emerged from the bushes, escorted by the Dutch Resistance. Joe and his buddies began getting them onto the boats, as quickly and quietly as they could. Some were wounded and needed extra assistance. Joe scanned each face he came into contact with, but still did not see George. He had promised he’d look out for him, for the sake of Victoria, Marigold, Sybbie, and Caroline. There were too many to see them all, so Joe just hoped George was among the ones they missed or would be in the second group.

They rowed across the river with the first group. The second waited anxiously on the shoreline. Getting the first group out of the boats and up the bank went faster than anticipated, and within minutes, they were rowing again. Joe’s muscles were beginning to ache already. 

The second group began, and there was still no sign of George. Joe thought about asking someone if he was there, but thought better of it. They had to be as silent as possible. 

This time around went even faster. All the wounded were taken with the first group, so these guys were able to hop right into the boats. They were about to take off when they heard a twig snap in the hedges. Everyone stiffened and tensed up. The hair on the back of Joe’s neck stood up. 

All eyes turned on the bush the noise came from. If it was a German, they didn’t want to shoot him and draw attention to the operation. But if it was another British paratrooper, they didn’t want to leave him behind. They waited, barely breathing with anticipation. 

And then, out walked a young Dutch woman, a little boy on her hip, a British lieutenant, and George Crawley. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> German:  
> Wo sind die Engländer? -> Where are the English?  
> Hier gibt es kein Engländer -> There are no English here.  
> Noch einmal -> Once again.  
> Nochmal! -> Again!  
> Erschieß ihn -> Shoot him  
> Suche -> Search
> 
> Dutch:  
> Mijn Handen -> My hands  
> Voor vrijheid! -> For freedom!


	13. Chapter 13

Colonel Dobie jogged over to George and engulfed him in a bear hug. George returned it with a smile, warning the colonel to mind his leg. As Dobie pulled back, he looked George over. Everything seemed to be in order. 

“Thank God,” he sighed. “Your mother has written me every day and I can finally tell her some good news.”

George chuckled. “Yes, that sounds like her.” 

“Colonel Dobie, we need to move,” said a man George had never seen before, but the screaming eagle on his shoulder patch revealed he was an American paratrooper. 

George immediately felt better. 

“Yes, right,” Dobie said. “Let’s get you home, Crawley.”

He started toward the boats, Hardy catching up, and they shook hands and clapped each other on the shoulder. George turned to Katrine.

“Well, goodbye,” she said. 

The words felt as brutal as if she’d taken a bat to his heart. But he looked in her eyes, and they reflected a reluctance to part as strong as his own. He had to do something. He could not leave her now or he would regret it the rest of his life. 

“Come with us,” he blurted out.

Her eyes went wide. “What?”

“Come with me,” he said. “There’s nothing for you here. And if you’re found in your house now, who knows what the Germans will do to you?”

“I can’t just leave everything,” she returned. “I must bury my father and -”

“The other resistance members will take care of your father’s body,” he said. “Please, Katrine. Let me get you and Rudie somewhere safe. I’ll cover the cost, I’ll get you the papers, whatever you need, only you must come with me now.”

“Captain Crawley!” Colonel Dobie hissed from the boats. “Now!”

George took Katrine’s free hand and looked at her desperately. Even in the low moonlight, she could see the urgency of him. 

“Your father would want you to be safe, I know it,” he went on. “Let me protect you as you and he did for me.”

Her lips began to quiver again and fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. He understood her hesitation. It took a great deal of courage to leave behind everything you’ve ever known. And if the world were just, Katrine would never be called upon to be brave again. She shouldn’t have to after everything she went through. But the world was not fair. And the Germans would only create further cycles of injustice as long as they occupied Holland. 

“This is my home,” she whimpered. 

“You’ll come back one day, I promise,” he assured her. “But it isn’t safe.”

“Captain Crawley!” Colonel Dobie called again.

George took Katrine’s face in his hands. 

“Please!” he begged her. “Don’t leave me!”

She held his gaze. His eyes were filled with tears too. She swallowed and took a deep breath, preparing to say goodbye again. Only this time, it was to her country.

“Okay,” she said. 

“Thank God,” he laughed with relief. 

He kissed her forehead and then took her hand, leading her to the boats. As they walked, him still with a slight limp, she glanced back and saw her past. When she tore her eyes away and looked forward again, she saw George and Rudie. And freedom. Her future. 

“What the devil are you doing?” Colonel Dobie demanded.

George took Rudie, helped Katrine into the boat, and then handed her the boy before climbing in himself. Hardy and Dobie assisted with his leg.

“If we leave her behind, I stay with her,” George warned. “I’m sorry, Colonel, I won’t leave her.”

Dobie groaned and rolled his eyes. Then he motioned for everyone to move along. They began to row across the river for the last time. George wrapped his arms around Katrine and held her close while she wept silently. He knew it must be a wrench to leave, but she had to. He meant what he said when he told her there was nothing left for her in Holland. 

When they reached the opposite shore, they all clamored out of the boat and hurried up the bank. George did not release Katrine’s hand until they were safely inside a barn that had been converted into a mess hall. No one spoke until the doors were closed. Then they all looked at each other. 

“Alright!” George Luz cried.

Then the whole room erupted into a roar of celebrations. The men - both British and American - hugged each other, whooped, and shouted their congratulations. Beers were passed around. George pulled Katrine into an embrace, as he could tell she was in no mood for celebrations. He held her for a few moments before the men of Easy Company approached him. 

He greeted them warmly, remembering their kindness at Downton over Christmas. It was hard to believe that was nearly a year prior. Bill Guarnere shook his hand, Joe Liebgott patted his shoulder, and Eugene Roe offered to look at his leg. It was a welcome reminder that he had friends not only in his unit, but within the US Army, and they had come for him when he needed them.

A lieutenant approached, the one who had spoken to Colonel Dobie earlier, and extended his hand to George, who shook it. 

“Lieutenant Moose Heyliger,” the man said. 

“Captain George Crawley,” George returned. “Lovely to meet you.”

“Captain Winters asked me to bring you to his office if you were one of the guys rescued,” Moose said. “Would you mind coming with me?”

George glanced at Katrine. The last thing she needed was to be alone in a room with a bunch of strange men.

“She can come too,” Moose said, sensing the concern. “In fact, she might need to so we can get her arrangements.” 

“Lead the way, Moose,” George said.

He led them out of the barn and into a house across the way. They could still hear the din of the party as they walked, though it faded as they entered the building. George could see Katrine’s eyelids growing heavy. Rudie was nodding in her arms. He needed to find them some beds. The toll of this night was going to be considerable.

Moose led them to Winters’s office and knocked on the door. 

“It’s open,” came the voice from the other side. 

Moose opened the door and George and Katrine followed him inside. Dick eyed the woman and child with a brief look of surprise. He allowed Moose to return to the party, which he seemed grateful to do, while George urged Katrine to take a seat. She did so. Her body visibly relaxed as she eased into it.

“Captain Winters,” George said, as they shook hands. 

“Captain Crawley,” Dick returned. “I can’t tell you how good it is to see you again.”

“I wish it were circumstances more like our last meeting, but I understand the relief,” George said. “I’m sure my family has been worried.”

“They have,” Dick said. “Marigold hasn’t talked about it much, but Doc Roe says Sybbie writes about it often. Speirs has gone to see Caroline in Paris.”

George’s brow furrowed. “What’s Caroline doing in Paris?”

“Marigold brought her along, but that’s a long story,” Dick said. “Why don’t you tell me about her?”

He nodded toward Katrine, who was too tired now to even look afraid. 

“This is Katrine Mondeel,” George began. “And her son, Rudie. I’m sorry to say it’s been a rather traumatic night for them. But I’d like to get them to Downton, if I can.”

At that moment, Dick’s orderly came in. Dick asked him to get them something hot for Katrine to drink and to set up a room for her and Rudie. George was so grateful his eyes stung with tears. He blinked them away. 

“So is it just you and Rudie?” Dick asked her. 

She nodded blankly.

“I think we can help get you to Paris, where some of George’s family is,” Dick said. “Is that alright?”

She nodded again. 

Zielinski returned. He offered a coffee cup to Katrine. She wasn’t able to take it with Rudie in her arms, so Zielinski took the boy off her hands. 

“It’s not coffee since I figured you wouldn’t want caffeine,” he said. “Just hot water and lemon.”

“Thank you,” she replied. 

She blew on it to cool off the first sip before taking it. She closed her weary eyes as it warmed her from her throat, to her stomach, and from there to the tips of her fingers. 

“Your room is ready, ma’am,” Zielinski said. 

She looked at George and then at Dick. 

“May I go?” she asked. 

“Of course,” Dick said. “Zielinski, show her the way.”

The orderly nodded, adjusted Rudie on his hip, and Katrine got to her feet. She faced George. 

“Goodnight,” she said thickly. 

He could tell she was about to start crying again. He cupped her cheek in his hand.

“Goodnight,” he replied. “Get some rest.”

She nodded stiffly before following Zielinski out of the room. George watched her go and felt like a piece of his heart went with her. He knew he would see her in the morning. But then what? She would go to Paris and he would probably go to a hospital somewhere.

“Could you tell me more about them?” Dick asked, dragging George from his thoughts. “Who is this woman?”

George launched into the story of his wound at Arnhem, and how Katrine had rescued him. He told Dick that Katrine and her father had nursed him back to health in their basement. He also explained what happened to Piers just before they joined the rescue mission. Dick listened carefully, and sighed with dismay at Piers’s fate. His own heart went out to Katrine, but he still had one question.

“Whose child is Rudie?” he asked. 

“He’s Katrine’s,” George said. 

“I know, but who is the -”

“He’s Katrine’s,” George said again. “And I’m afraid that’s all I can say. That story is not mine to tell.”

“Understood,” Dick replied. “I’ll write to Marigold and explain the basics. She’ll be able to meet them there. Sybbie is in London, so she should be able to pick them up from there. And then it’s just a train ride to Downton. It might take some time to get them the proper paperwork, though.”

“I’ll pay to have it expedited,” George said. “Whatever the costs are, let me know.”

Dick nodded. “Alright. I’ll get started on that tomorrow with Colonel Dobie.”

“Thank you,” George said.

“Now, you, on the other hand, need to be seen by a doctor,” Dick said. “We can get you to a hospital in France, and perhaps back to England if it’s bad enough. But it looks well taken care of.”

“Yes, Piers was a doctor,” George said. “He wasn’t as well supplied as he should have been, so I’ll see what I should do from here.”

“Sounds good,” Dick said.

“Excellent,” George replied. “Now, would you be so kind as to catch me up on my family?”

Dick smiled, invited George to sit, and fished out some of his letters from Marigold.

*******

Marigold herself lounged on a soft sofa in her Paris hotel room. The morning sun shone through the window onto her legs, warming them. Caroline was having a particularly rough start, and she sat on the bathroom floor, hanging over the toilet, having just finished retching for the third time this morning. She moaned miserably. 

“Want some water, Caroline?” Marigold offered, getting to her feet.

She crossed the room and peeked into the lavatory. Caroline was looking down at her belly.

“You had better be worth it, you little bastard,” she grumbled.

Marigold chuckled. “I’m sure motherhood will be rewarding beyond belief. Now, do you want some water?”

“Actually, an ice pack or a cool cloth would be better,” Caroline said. “I’m burning up.”

“I’ll see what I can rustle up,” Marigold replied. 

She turned and headed for the door. When she pulled it open, she nearly ran right into a man standing on the other side. After settling her heart from the surprise, she realized it was Speirs, eyes ablaze with anger. She blinked, taken aback again by his expression.

“Lieutenant, what on Earth are you doing here?” she asked. 

“Where is she?” he demanded. 

She knew he meant Caroline, so she ignored his tone and stepped aside to allow him into the room.

“Bathroom,” she said. “She’s having a miserable time of it, I’m afraid.”

He didn’t answer that, so Marigold just shrugged and left for her mission to fetch some ice. Speirs strode across the room to where he heard the echo of heaving into the toilet. He looked into the bathroom and saw Caroline’s despondent state, and felt a fleeting moment of pity before he remembered why he came.

“Hey!” he barked. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

She looked up at him through bleary eyes. 

“Oh, Ron,” she sighed. “S’just you.”

His brows knit together over his eyes. Why wasn’t she fighting with him? 

“Are you dying?” he asked. 

“I’m as good as,” she returned. “This is bloody torture.”

He released a sigh and walked over before easing himself onto the floor beside her. 

“Why didn’t you tell me about the baby?” he asked again, gentler this time.

She let out a low breath and sat up on her knees, still facing the toilet. 

“I’m sorry, Ron,” she said. “I started to write to you dozens of times, but nothing ever felt right. It didn’t feel like the sort of thing you put in a letter.”

“Lots of guys get letters like that nowadays,” he said. 

“I know,” she replied. “But I was scared it might fall into the wrong hands, too. What if someone got a hold of it and sold it to the English papers? Then coming to Paris to hide my sin would be meaningless. And all that aside, at first, I…”

She trailed off. He waited for her to continue, and when she didn’t, he pressed. 

“You what?”

“I wasn’t sure I was going to keep it,” she said. 

He let that sink in. It was bad enough to be pregnant and alone, but to go through that kind of procedure by herself would have been terrifying. She was caught up in her fear. Understanding began to chip away at his anger. 

“What changed your mind?” he wondered.

“I love you.”

He met her eyes, completely thrown. He stared at her wondering if he’d heard her correctly. But she appeared resolute. She had said it so matter-of-factly, with nonchalance. As if she’d said it a hundred times before. All his resentment was gone now, softened by her brutal honesty.

“What?” 

“I love you, Ron,” she said again, with all the confidence she said it the first time. “I want to have your child.”

He took a deep breath and opened up his arms. She crawled into them, settling against his chest. Her body relaxed and she closed her eyes. He held her there, saying in his own way that he loved her too. It surprised him how easily Caroline said it, when she was the one who had walls up initially. But hers had come down. He had not even considered his own until now, when he wanted to tell her how he felt - which was that he loved her too - but he could not make his mouth speak. All he could do was take her into a tender embrace. She hummed contentedly there, nuzzling even closer. He squeezed her gently. They stayed there a long moment, understanding between their hearts.

“Thank you for coming,” she sighed. “I’m sorry again.”

“It’s alright,” he replied, kissing her on the top of her head. “I’m sorry you’ve been dealing with this alone.”

“My cousins have been quite supportive, actually,” she said. “But even so. I’ve missed you terribly.”

He pressed his lips to her head again to let her know he missed her too. It suddenly seemed impossible to leave her again, but his pass was only good for forty-eight hours.

Caroline did not disclose that her cousins were the only ones who knew about the pregnancy. She knew her parents would absolutely disapprove of this sort of thing, and her grandparents would see her in an entirely different light. She was not prepared to face that just yet. Thankfully, Marigold, Sybbie, and Victoria did not judge her. Not in the slightest.

“Can you help me to the bed?” she asked. “I think we’re quite finished now. I’m feeling much better.”

“That’s a pretty quick turnaround,” he remarked. 

She nodded. He scooted away from her to get on his knees, and from there, he scooped her up bridal style before getting to his feet. She squeaked with surprise, but smiled gratefully. He carried her out of the bathroom and laid her gently on the bed. He started to tuck the blankets around her, but she stopped him, and he shot her a quizzical look. 

“Aren’t you getting in?” she asked. 

“That might be uncomfortable for Marigold when she gets back,” he returned. 

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to make love, Ron. But as long as you’re here, I’d like you to hold me.”

He almost laughed. Same old Caroline, telling him exactly what she expected of him. He removed his jacket and kicked off his boots. She shimmied over toward the middle of the bed as he climbed in. She even lifted the covers for him. He sat back and she once again settled herself against his chest. His hand came naturally to her hair, and he slowly ran his fingers through it. It sent pleasant tingles up her spine.

“That’s nice,” she told him. “I may fall asleep.”

“Fall asleep, then,” he replied. “You can do whatever you want.”

“I’d rather not miss a moment with you,” she said. 

He could not recall a time in his life where he’d ever felt this adored. His desire to protect her, and the life growing inside her, became all the more intense. Caroline’s admissions of needing him showed him that she had given herself over to him, and he would not let anything happen to her. She and the child were his, and he took care of what belonged to him.

“Do you think it’s a boy or a girl?” he wondered. “The baby.”

“Boy,” she answered. “Though I’m not even sure it’s developed into one or the other yet.”

“So what are you basing your guess on?” he chuckled.

“Intuition,” she responded. 

She shifted so she could look up at his face. 

“Which do you hope for?” she asked. 

“I think every man wants a son,” he told her. “But it doesn’t really matter to me.”

“Sybbie says there are some little tests we can do later on,” she said. “But even they aren’t always accurate.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

“They’re all old wives tales,” she said. “Like holding a pendant over the baby and depending on how it swings, you can figure out the sex. And some women say if you carry high it’s a girl, and carrying low means a boy. Or is it the other way around?”

“I really have no way of knowing that,” he returned. 

She giggled. 

“How does the pendant one work?” he asked. “I wanna try it.”

“It’s still too early,” she replied, amused. “And I haven’t got any jewelry with me.”

“We’ll use my dog tags,” he said. 

She laughed, and agreed. So she lay back and he sat up, pulling his dog tags from around his neck. She explained the specifics. What she’d heard most commonly was that if it swings back and forth like a pendulum, that means a girl. If it goes in a circle, that means a boy. He nodded, and then held the chain of his dog tags high, so the tags themselves were only a few inches above her belly. They watched and waited for some steady movement. 

Initially, it was hard to tell, as the motion wasn’t consistent. But then, after a few seconds, the tags started to go around in a circle. He beamed. 

“Boy it is,” he said. 

“I’ll start thinking of names,” she said. 

He put the dog tags back around his neck and she took hold of the chain. Using that leverage, she pulled him in for a kiss. She smiled into his mouth, thrilled at the idea of having his son. She realized if her younger self could see her now, pregnant by a man who was not her husband and in bed with him, she’d gawk. But Caroline was so completely happy, she could pay her past self no mind. 

The door suddenly burst open. Marigold was back and looking frantic. She held a telegram in her hand. Caroline stiffened. They had been anxious to hear any news of George. 

“What is it?” she asked. 

“It’s from Dick,” Marigold said. “I haven’t opened it.” 

“Well, do it!” Caroline insisted. 

Marigold tore open the envelope. Speirs took Caroline’s hand in support. In war, no news was good news. But they had news. An odd mixture of dread and hope swirled among them. Marigold unfolded it and her eyes began to scan it. Caroline’s heart thundered.

“George alive, stop,” Marigold read. “Got him in the night, stop. Letter to follow, stop. Yours, Dick.”

Caroline breathed again, giving Speris’s hand an appreciative press. He returned a comforting one. 

“Good news all around, then,” he said. 

Caroline nodded and smiled. 

“Yes,” she said. “We must write to Sybbie and tell her.”

“I’ll get started,” Marigold replied. “And oh - golly - I forgot your ice.”

Caroline shook her head. “That’s alright. I’m feeling much better.”

“Aren’t we all,” Marigold said. 

Caroline bit her lip. She was happy George was alive, truly, but she was worried about what he would think of her situation. They had an atypical relationship to be sure, but she had always had his respect. Would she lose it now, she wondered. How was she going to tell him?


	14. Chapter 14

The French countryside swept by out the window as the train rattled down the track. Speirs sat with his arms crossed over his chest, glowering out at the scene. It looked like a peaceful autumn painting. But he dreaded every mile it put between him and Caroline, and especially the baby. 

She had not wept when he left, which was a relief. Tears made him uncomfortable. She only kissed him, wished him luck, and promised to write to keep him updated. He hesitated a moment before stepping on the train, considering going AWOL right then and remaining with her. But he knew she would never allow it. So he pressed his lips to her forehead, whispered goodbye, and boarded. She stood on the platform until he disappeared, and he wondered when he would see her again. She may be big and round. Or if it was too long, she may already have the baby and he’d come back to two people. 

She had given him permission to tell George. In fact, she was grateful not to have the pressure on her and she wouldn’t have to see his face when he learned the truth. Which, in her words, was that “his sister is a foolish hypocrite with no further claims to virtue.” He’d laughed at that, and said he might put it differently. 

He closed his eyes, so the landscape disappeared and he could think of other things. He tried to imagine fatherhood, life with Caroline, and the future, but it didn’t come to him. All he could conjure up was the war. There was still a lot of work to be done in Holland. The first step was finishing the Germans. Only then could he freely go forward with his family. 

George sat in a meeting with Dick and Colonel Dobie, going over everything needed to get Katrine out of Holland. There was quite a bit of paperwork. Getting her to France was not a problem, but England was a whole other monster. Dick assured him that Marigold and Caroline would be in Paris for a long time yet, so there was no rush, but he wouldn’t say how he knew they would remain so long. George wondered what he wasn’t saying. 

During the meeting, Zielinski knocked on the door and popped his head in, looking apologetic. 

“I’m sorry to interrupt, sir,” he said. “But Lieutenant Speirs is here and he says he really needs to talk to Captain Crawley.”

Dick swallowed. He had a feeling he knew exactly what it was about. He looked at Colonel Dobie. 

“I think we’ve done all we can here today,” Dick said. “Colonel, if you’ll excuse us.”

“Certainly,” Dobie said. “I’ll get those papers along as soon as I can.”

He took his leave, and he and Speirs nodded to one another as they passed through the door. Zielinski closed it behind them, leaving Speirs, Dick, and George in the room alone. 

“Lieutenant,” George said pleasantly. “What is it you need to speak to me about? Are Caroline and Marigold alright?”

“Fine,” Speirs said. “But this is just about Caroline.”

George’s brow furrowed. “Very well. Let’s hear it then.”

Speirs straightened his shoulders and looked George in the eyes. Dick looked on warily. He knew George was not a violent person, but this was his sister, and they lived in a world where reputation meant a great deal. Caroline’s was forever ruined. 

“She’s pregnant,” Speirs said directly. “It’s mine. It’ll be here in May.”

George blinked. He felt like he’d been slapped. Caroline was pregnant? By a man she was not married to? And so soon after calling off an engagement to someone else? The biggest shock was that it was Caroline. Who so valued tradition and morality. Who prided herself on her virtue. Who wanted nothing more than a respectable position in society. 

His mind initially went to a darker place. He imagined for a split second that Caroline had gotten her child the same way Katrine had, but he shook his head. Speirs was a lot of things, but he was not that kind of man. 

George cleared his throat, suddenly aware of how long he had gone without speaking. Was it minutes? Hours, even? He couldn’t tell. He was still reeling. He swallowed.

“Um,” he began slowly. “Is she...happy?”

Speirs nodded. “We both are.”

George nodded too, fighting down the anger that was bubbling up from the pit of his stomach. This was going to ruin Caroline’s life, everything she had ever wanted for herself. It would cost her so dearly. And what was Speirs losing?

George stood up. Dick moved a few inches closer. 

“So what happens now?” George demanded. “Have you married?”

Speirs shook his head. “Nope. Not yet.”

“You had time in Paris,” George said. “Why not then?”

“We didn’t think about it,” Speirs said with a shrug. “We’ll get married after the war.”

George frowned. “And what if you’re killed? She and the child will have nothing they -”

“They’ll be taken care of,” Speirs interrupted. “Before I came here, I went and changed my will.”

George was still fuming. It was so irresponsible, so out of character for her. How could this have happened? Last he heard, Caroline didn’t even  _ like _ Speirs. 

“And you - you’re in love?” he asked, to be sure.

“We are,” Speirs said. 

Somehow, that was even more unbelievable. Caroline in love with a man who had nothing to offer her. Was it really possible that she had changed so much in the short time he was gone? George let out a long breath, releasing some of the tension. 

“It’s just so unlike her,” he said, half to himself. “How did...my God…”

He was speechless now. The truth was that he clearly didn’t know his sister as well as he thought he did. Perhaps he never really knew her at all. Their relationship was always strained by his position as heir and Matthew’s son. Evidently, there was more to Caroline than he was ever aware of. And didn’t it prove her growth that she had abandoned her old ideas in the name of love?

“Well,” he began again. “Um. Thank you for telling me.”

“Sure thing,” Speirs said. “She also wanted me to tell she’s sorry she didn’t write. But she didn’t know what to say.”

“I understand,” George replied. “I’ll write to her.”

“Good,” Speirs said. “I’ll, uh…”

An awkward beat passed. Then Zielinski returned to break the silence. 

“Sir, it’s Miss Katrine,” he said. “She also needs to speak to Captain Crawley.”

“Um, she might need to wait -” Dick began buck George cut across him.

“Send her in,” he said.

Zielinski nodded and stepped aside to let Katrine through. She had Rudie in her arms.

“George, can you watch him?” she asked. “They finally have a place for me to have a bath, and I’d like to enjoy it.”

“I’m sorry, I’ve got to go to the doctor after this,” he told her. 

She bit her lip and turned to Dick. “Could you?”

“I wish I could, but I’ve gotta see Colonel Sink,” he said. 

Her shoulders sagged with disappointment. Then Speirs stepped up.

“I’ll watch him,” he said. 

“Really?” she and George questioned in unison.

“Sure,” Speirs said. “I could use the practice.”

Her brow furrowed with confusion. Because Speirs had been in Paris since her arrival, she could not understand a stranger offering to take her son. 

“Ron Speirs,” he said, picking up on her hesitation and offering his hand.

She shook it. “Katrine Mondeel. Why do you need practice with a child?”

“I’ll explain later,” George interjected. “Thank you, Lieutenant, that’d be a great help.”

“No problem,” Speirs returned. “Least I could do.”

The ‘since I knocked up your sister’ went unsaid but was well understood. 

“Thank you,” Katrine said again, handing Rudie off. 

Speirs took him and held him securely. She bent over and kissed Rudie on the forehead.

“Be a good boy for Lieutenant Speirs,” she said, pushing some of the hair out of his face. “Mama will be back soon.”

She thanked Speirs once more before leaving. Rudie looked up at his temporary caretaker and smiled. Speirs stared levelly back.

“Alright, let’s get outta here,” he said. 

“Lieutenant, do be careful,” George said. “Rudie’s a good little chap.”

“Sure thing,” Speirs replied, and then he was out the door. 

Dick looked at George, who was clearly still recovering from the bombshell news of Caroline’s pregnancy. He sank slowly back down into his chair. 

“You okay?” Dick asked. 

“I hardly know,” George answered. “It doesn’t sound like Caroline at all. To compromise herself this way is...I really have no words.”

“Well, hang tough,” Dick said, checking his watch. “I’m about to be late to meet Colonel Sink. Are you sure you’re gonna be okay?”

George nodded. Dick helped him to stand again and they both headed to their respective meetings. George was still half in a daze when he arrived, though that quickly faded as the doctor spoke to him. Treatment was a welcome distraction from everything he was feeling.

Speirs set Rudie down to walk outside, the boy clutching Speirs’s pointer finger. Unfortunately, this place was not conducive to amusing a child. Speirs wondered how the mother went about her days. 

“So,” he said. “What do you like to do?”

Rudie looked up at Speirs and shrugged. 

“You like stories?” he asked. 

Rudie nodded. 

“Okay, let’s find a good spot and I’ll tell you one,” Speirs said. 

Carwood Lipton walked with Floyd Talbert and a few other Easy Company NCOs toward the mess hall for a few beers now that training was done for the day. The afternoon was chilly, with a cold night ahead, but with beer in their bellies, they knew they wouldn’t feel it. They chatted animatedly as they walked until suddenly, Lipton halted, staring up a hill. His comrades nearly collided with him, but before they could admonish him, he pointed at what had made him stop so abruptly. 

“Is that Speirs?” he asked. “With the kid?”

“The kid” was Rudie’s nickname. He had quickly become one of the most popular guys in Easy Company. When they had time, they played with him, held him, and taught him cuss words behind his mother’s back. 

The other guys followed Lip’s gaze and they saw it too. Sure enough, Speirs sat beneath a tree, Rudie in his lap, playing with what appeared to be sticks and rocks. Speirs looked to be explaining something thoroughly while Rudie looked on, rapt. 

“Should we check it out?” Tab wondered. “Make sure he’s okay?”

They all exchanged looks and nodded in agreement. Speirs was a good officer, but it was entirely possible - if the rumors about him were true - he was teaching Rudie far worse things than curse words. They marched up the hill. 

“And that was why the Brecourt Manor assault was successful,” Speirs finished as the other men arrived. “Took those Krauts right out.”

Rudie held up a finger gun. “Bang?”

“That’s right,” Speirs said, mirroring. “Bang.”

Rudie nodded. Lip and the guys all looked at each other in disbelief. 

“Uh, sir,” Lipton said. “What...what are you doing?”

Speirs looked up at them, irked.

“Teaching,” he said, as if it were obvious.

“Hi,” Rudie greeted the others sweetly with a wave using his whole arm. 

They all waved back and said hello.

“Well, you two wanna join us for dinner?” Lipton offered. 

Speirs looked down at Rudie. “You wanna eat?”

The boy nodded emphatically. Speirs smiled in spite of himself. 

“Guess that means we’re joining you for dinner,” he said. 

“Piggy back?” Rudie asked, meeting Speirs’s eyes. 

“Sure,” Speirs replied.

He nudged Rudie to stand up, and the boy did so. Then Speirs got to his knees, let Rudie climb onto his back, and he hooked his legs through Speirs’s arms. Rudie wrapped his own arms around his guardian’s neck. Then Speirs stood up. Rudie giggled as Speirs adjusted him to fit more comfortably. 

“Ready to move out?” Speirs asked over his shoulder. 

“Yes, sir,” Rudie answered softly. 

“Can’t hear you, soldier,” Speirs replied. 

“Yes, sir!” Rude cried with a laugh. 

“That’s more like it,” Speirs praised. “Let’s get you some food.”

He led the way. Lip and the others followed, both impressed and disturbed.

After the doctor, George went to Katrine’s room. He needed to talk to her about the news of Caroline. He had to write to his sister, but he had no idea what to say. Katrine would probably know, having been through an unplanned (and unwed) pregnancy herself. If anyone could tell him what a girl in that situation needed to hear, it was her. 

He knocked on the door. 

“Who is it?” she called. 

“It’s George,” he said. “May I come in?”

“Sure!” she returned. 

He turned the knob and stepped through, closing it behind him. He almost stepped back out when he saw Katrine. She only had a towel on, wrapped around her and covering her to her thighs. With another, she squeezed excess water out of her long, blonde hair. Her shoulders and collarbones, freckled with water droplets, were bare. Her skin looked as fine and delicate as porcelain. He had never seen so much of it before. He suddenly felt feverish.

“Oh - I’m sorry - I can come back -” he stammered.

“It’s alright,” she said with a shrug. “What is it?”

He blinked, unsure of himself now. “Really?”

She nodded. “Why? What’s the matter?”

“Well, it’s just that you’re not - you know - dressed,” he explained. 

She looked down at her towel and back at him. “I’m covered up. Sit on the bed and talk. I need to brush my hair.”

She had a fine little room. It had a twin bed with a nightstand beside it. A dresser sat in one corner, and a vanity in another. It had a rounded, oval shape mirror, in front of which was a hair brush. Katrine took a seat, causing her towel to ride up even higher on her legs. She ran the brush through her hair as George sat down. The sound of the bristles combing through her curls sounded very loud, especially when combined with George’s pounding heart.

He cleared his throat. Forcing himself to look at her face instead of her legs, he told her everything about Caroline and Speirs. He hoped he got across to her the sort of person Caroline was, and what it would mean for her now. Katrine listened as she worked the knots out of her hair and when she was finished, George had completed the story. 

“Babies are not always planned, George,” she said. “These things happen.”

“Not to our people,” he returned. “It’s going to ruin her.”

“So what if it does as long as she’s happy?” she questioned. 

“It won’t keep her happy to be repeatedly shunned by people whose respect I know she’d like to have,” he said. “And if…”

He trailed off. It was a difficult thing to think about. Much less say aloud.

“What?” she pressed. 

“If I’m killed in action, I cannot protect her from the ramifications of this,” he admitted. “As long as I’m around, she will have a home at Downton and be among the upper class. If I’m not around, they might turn her out.”

“That sounds cruel,” she said. “Aren’t they your family?”

“Yes, but this is beyond unacceptable,” he told her. “I don’t want to sound elitist, but Speirs has nothing. He’s just an average American G.I. No money, no prospects, no title. And she went to bed with him. And will bear his child. He says they’ll get married eventually as well, but that doesn’t undo this. She has brought shame on our family, and that is not quickly forgiven.”

She considered this. “Didn’t you tell me your aunt married the driver? They got past that.”

“That wasn’t easy,” he said. “And they at least got married before they had a child.”

“So it really is the sex that bothers you,” she said. 

“I - I’m sorry?” 

“It’s the sex,” she repeated. “It sounds to me like you would not be having this hard of a time if she married him.”

“Only because it’s all the worse for her,” he insisted. 

“What’s good or bad for her is for her to decide,” she said. “The only way her making love to a man reflects on your family is because they place value on her purity. But that takes away her freedom, and that’s not fair to her.”

“It’s not just us who -”

“Do you think I brought shame to my family with Rudie?” she cut across him. 

“That’s different, you had no choice,” he said. 

“So that’s better?” she challenged. “What happened to me is acceptable because a man forced me but she willingly, happily sleeps with a man she loves and risks being cast away? That doesn’t make any sense.”

Katrine was back to her old self. Forcing him to see a new perspective he would never have considered without her. He looked guiltily at the floor. 

“I know what it is to feel shame,” she said. “And I can tell you, your sister feels it deeply, whether she admits it or not. Don’t let her. Tell her you will protect her and love her as much as you always have. Never let her know your opinion of her has changed.”

He looked up again and met her eyes. 

“Is that what I said?” he asked. “My opinion of her has changed?”

“That’s what it sounded like to me,” she said. 

Now he was the one who felt ashamed. How could he have ever cast judgement on Caroline? She was his family. She made a choice, certainly. But did he really think of her differently for something so trivial as sex? Not that it was meaningless, but he realized it was not something that defined her. Just as Katrine’s misfortune did not define her. 

“Thank you,” he said. “For opening my eyes. As you always do.”

She offered a small smile. “You’re welcome.”

He smiled back. They both flushed a little under the other’s gaze. 

“How are you doing, by the way?” he asked. “Feeling alright?”

“As good as I can,” she replied. “I think of my father a lot. I hope he was buried properly and…” she trailed off, choking on her words.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “So sorry, Kat.”

Over time, she had allowed him to shorten her name, not because he couldn’t say it, but because he had earned the endearment. They were solidly friends now, though something deeper blossomed. 

She nodded at his sympathy. They hardly had any time to discuss what happened with everything that had to be done since the rescue mission. 

“How about you?” she asked after clearing her throat. “How’s the leg?”

“Much better,” he said. “Now that I’ve got the space to walk around and exercise it, the doctor has actually cleared me to return to my unit.”

“That’s very good,” she said. 

“Yeah, it is,” he agreed.

Another beat passed between them. Each of them realized moments alone would be hard to come by in the following days, and wondered if this moment should be seized upon to admit some feelings. Or if it was too soon and too dangerous to do so.

“We should find Rudie,” George said. “I think these Americans are teaching him some really foul language.”

Disappointment appeared on her face for a fleeting moment, but was quickly banished with a smile. 

“It’s alright,” she said. “He has fun with them. He’s never really had fun before. He’s never been able to be a normal boy.”

“Well, even so, it’s about bedtime, isn’t it?” he pointed out, checking his watch. 

“I suppose so,” she said. “I’ll get dressed and we can fetch him.”

Reluctantly, George stepped out of the room. He stood in the hall, debating going back inside and kissing the life out of her. He wondered what was triggering this compulsion so strongly now. Was it the sight of her in a towel? Was it the discussion of sex? Or was it that they were finally safe together and had something worth celebrating? He couldn’t be sure. Before he could figure it out, she had joined him, wearing her usual shirt dress and cardigan. She was still braiding her hair.

“Ready?” she asked. 

He nodded. “Let’s go.”

They walked together. When they emerged into the frigid night, George took off his jacket and wrapped it around Katrine’s shoulders. She looked gratefully up at him before continuing on their way. 

They went to the mess hall since that was where the noise was coming from, and immediately found what they were looking for. Speirs had Rudie on his knee and was playing a card game with some NCOs from Easy Company. Rudie pointed to one of the cards in Speirs’s hand. 

“No, we can’t play that,” Speirs said. “Sergeant Lipton led with a heart, so we have to play a heart.”

Rudie stared at the cards again, carefully examining each one. Then, his face lit up with excitement as he pointed to another card. 

“Yes, we can play that,” Speirs said. “Good choice too, it wins us the trick.”

He played Rudie’s choice and collected the other three cards from the center. 

“What are you playing?” Katrine wondered as she and George approached. 

“Mama!” Rudie cried eagerly. “Spades!”

She shot George a questioning look. He shrugged. 

“Must be an American game, I’ve never heard of it,” he said. 

“It is an American game,” Speirs said. “Which Rudie just won for us.”

Katrine’s amused smile assured them all she did not disapprove. 

“I’m glad he was helpful,” she said. “But it’s bedtime now.”

Speirs found himself reluctant to let the boy go. In just a few short hours, they had bonded. But when Rudie yawned, so big and breathy, he knew Katrine was right. 

“Alright,” Speirs said. “Good work today, kid.”

Rudie beamed. Then he sat up straight and saluted. Speirs held back a laugh and returned it. Rudie allowed his mother to take him in her arms, and he rested his tired head on her chest. Katrine and George thanked Speirs again, bid everyone goodnight, and started to head out. Then Rudie cracked open his eyes and met Speirs’s gaze again over Katrine’s shoulder. He waved his little hand.

“Night, night,” he said. 

Speirs waved back. As he watched them go, looking like a little family themselves, it hit him how badly he wanted that. He ached for Caroline in that moment. Inwardly, he committed himself to her further. It astounded him that something so small, which did not even exist yet, could so quickly become his whole world. 


	15. Chapter 15

_ Dear Caroline, _

_ I want to begin by saying just how happy I am for you. If this is what you want, I stand with you and will support you in whatever way I can. Congratulations, little sister. I know you will be fantastic at this new role in your life. I’ll say no more just now. I know how you detest sentimental old fools.  _

_ I hope you and Marigold will take good care of Katrine and Rudie. They saved my life, and this small act of getting them to safety is not nearly enough to repay them, but it’s the best I can do. Please don’t ask them any personal questions. They have endured so much, so I trust you will welcome them without expectations.  _

_ I know you must be thinking I’m in love with her for me to go to all this trouble. The truth is that is part of it. I beg you not to show this letter to anyone else or mention its contents, especially Katrine. I know you of all people can keep a secret. I do love Katrine, and I intend to marry her as soon as possible, if she’ll have me. And if she will permit it, I hope to adopt Rudie as my own.  _

_ It’s such a relief to share these things with you. Somehow, knowing your predicament, and what you’re capable of, makes me feel that we can be friends. Really friends. I mean this in the best way possible, but we will both be disappointments to our family when we get home. At least we can rely on each other.  _

_ I’ll write to Mother to explain Katrine’s coming to Downton, but I’ll spare her the details of my affections. I hope you will be at my side when I reveal my true intentions. God knows, I will be at yours when you tell her your news.  _

_ Give my love to Marigold, Sybbie, and Victoria as you see them. _

_ Your brother,  _

_ George _

Caroline finished the letter and looked up. Marigold was bouncing Rudie on her knees already while Katrine washed up. The meeting at the station had gone quite well, as Dick had already informed them that George felt indebted to Katrine. Rudie warmed up immediately, but Katrine was naturally shy. She was surprised by the warm welcome she received.

“Anything more from George?” Marigold asked, noticing Caroline folding up the letter.

“Not much else,” Caroline said. “He asks that we don’t pry into their lives, which is understandable. I expect it’s been dreadful.”

“Is that all he said?” Marigold wondered.

Caroline shook her head. “No. He also told me that he’s happy for me, and he hopes to be with me when I tell the family.”

Marigold softened. “I hope he is too. His support will be helpful in swaying Donk and your mother.”

Caroline nodded stiffly, afraid to speak lest she reveal the lump in her throat. George’s unwavering loyalty to her touched her in a way that she did not expect. She swallowed and blinked some tears back. Then promptly blamed the baby for her blubbering. 

Katrine emerged from the bathroom. Caroline looked her up and down. The dress she had was dirty and ragged. Her boots were worn and scuffed. Even the cardigan she had was worse for the wear. Rudie’s clothes were in desperate need as well. 

“I’ve got an idea,” Caroline said. “Why don’t we take you shopping? That dress has seen better days, and I know you don’t have anything else with you.”

Katrine shook her head. “No, I don’t, but I don’t have any money.”

“We’ll cover it,” Caroline said. “You and your boy deserve something fresh. Options are fairly limited due to rationing, but this is still Paris.”

“Oh, do let us help,” Marigold added. “We’d like to get to know you better, and with something to do, it won’t feel so much like an interrogation.”

Katrine flushed, her cheeks turning a rosy shade of pink. Caroline found it rather sweet, and just the sort of thing George would adore. But Caroline also detected there was more to Katrine than she let them see. There was a grit there below the surface, which Caroline guessed was due to the harshness of living under occupation. 

“I, uh…” Katrine began. “I’ve never been shopping. Back home, I made my own clothes.”

“Well, if you like, we can shop for fabric instead,” Marigold offered. “Would that make you more comfortable?”

“Marigold, we don’t have a sewing machine,” Caroline reminded her cousin. “Besides, she deserves a break. To let someone else take care of her for a change.” 

Katrine smiled bashfully. “Thank you very much.”

Caroline nodded and got to her feet. “Well, let’s get to work then.”

“Are you ready, Rudie?” Marigold asked, and the boy beamed happily. 

They all left the hotel much more excited than the way they arrived. 

Katrine was beyond grateful for everything they got for her. She needed some warmer clothes as winter was fast approaching, so Caroline and Marigold bought her a coat as well as two dresses, a basic white blouse, and two skirts. They also replaced her boots with a pair of plain oxford heels. None of it was fancy, but it meant a great deal to Katrine. 

Her paperwork arrived a few weeks later, and Sybbie and Victoria came to Paris to get Katrine. They knew the journey could be frightening alone, so they insisted Katrine could use the company. They would accompany her all the way to Downton. But they also had a bit of an ulterior motive. Caroline was beginning to show, so they were eager to see the baby bump. 

They were all packing to return home for Christmas, but Caroline was hesitant. She looked down at her slightly protruding belly and felt such a sense of dread at showing up at Downton this way, she felt sick. Not that she was struggling much with morning sickness anymore, it was just the thought of the look on her mother’s face. 

“Caroline?” Sybbie asked. “Are you alright?”

Caroline heaved a sigh. “I can’t do this. I don’t think I’m ready.”

Sybbie and Marigold exchanged a worried look. Victoria looked on, as she was already packed and holding Rudie while Katrine got her things together.

“You must tell them sometime,” Marigold said. “Now’s as good a time as any. It’s Christmas, after all.”

Caroline blinked back the tears that were fogging up her eyes. 

“I can’t,” she breathed. “I’m trying to imagine my mother forgiving me for this and I just can’t picture it. She’s going to hate me. And so will Donk and Granny and Father and -”

“Caroline, stop,” Sybbie said gently. “No one’s going to hate you. They won’t be thrilled at the idea, and they may have questions, but they’ll still love you. They’re your family.”

Caroline opened her mouth to protest again, but Katrine interjected. 

“Don’t make her go if she doesn’t want to,” she said. “If she’s stressed or anxious, it’s not good for the baby. This is her life, and she should tell them only when she’s ready.”

Caroline shot Katrine a grateful look. Katrine smiled encouragingly and nodded. Marigold and Sybbie looked at each other, stumped. 

“So, what do you want to do?” Marigold asked. “Stay here in Paris?”

Caroline nodded. “Yes. I understand if you all want to be home for Christmas, but I cannot go just yet.”

“We won’t leave you here alone,” Sybbie said. 

“But you’ve got to get Katrine to -”

“Sybbie will get Katrine to Downton,” Marigold said. “She’s needed at the hospital anyway. You and I will stay here.”

“You go, Marigold,” Victoria said. “I’ll stay. You shouldn’t miss Christmas, and we don’t celebrate it, so I won’t be missing anything.”

Caroline felt overwhelming relief mixed with guilt. She’d always regretted the way she spoke to Victoria about Joe, and now, when Victoria was offering such genuine kindness, Caroline was struck again by remorse. 

“What will we tell the family?” Marigold asked. “When they ask why you didn’t come?”

Caroline let out a breath, as Marigold’s question implied she agreed to the plan. 

“We’ll tell them she got sick,” Katrine suggested. “And couldn’t travel. And then we’ll tell them the truth that Victoria offered to stay behind and care for her.”

Sybbie bit her lip, hating the idea of anyone being left behind. 

“You’re hardly showing,” she said. “If we put you in loose fitting clothes, maybe -”

Caroline shook her head. “That’s thoughtful, Sybbie, but really, I’d rather not take the chance. Please. Go have a wonderful holiday with the family and I’ll see you all in the new year.”

They reluctantly agreed. So Caroline helped them finish packing before they all headed to the train station. They would take a train to the coast and then a ferry to cross the channel. Then another train to London, and then to Downton. 

Katrine had her own reservations about going to Downton. Based on George and Caroline’s descriptions, she got the impression they were not very open-minded. But Sybbie and Marigold seemed very kind, and she took solace in that they would be her allies. 

After bidding the others goodbye, Caroline and Victoria returned to the hotel. Caroline still felt the awkwardness of shame she usually had around Victoria, and had no idea how to shake it. What could she say?

“I’ve got something for you,” Victoria said suddenly.

Caroline’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“Stay there,” Victoria insisted, but she went to her luggage.

In one of her suitcases, which Caroline had noticed Victoria hadn’t opened the whole time she’d been in Paris, Victoria started pulling out clothes. They were old fashioned, from their mothers’ time, and large in the middle. Caroline was only further confused. 

“What is all this?” she asked.

Victoria held up one of the dresses. 

“Maternity clothes,” she said. “I thought they might be hard to shop for, and you might get worried about being recognized, so I nicked some out of my mother’s collection. They’re not the latest style, but -”

Caroline welled up again, but got to her feet and crossed the room to engulf her cousin in a hug. Victoria gasped with quiet surprise but returned the embrace as Caroline let out a shuddering breath.

“I’m so sorry I was such a horrid bitch to you,” she said. “You had every right to -”

“Oh, hush,” Victoria soothed her. “I’ve never held the things you used to say about me and Joe and against you. You’re my cousin, Caroline, and you’re in need. It’s as simple as that.”

“Thank you,” Caroline sniffled. 

“I don’t know who’s the bigger baby,” Victoria teased. “You or the little boy in your belly.”

Caroline laughed through a watery smile as she pulled away and wiped her eyes. 

“Want to try some on?” Victoria offered.

“Oh, of course,” Caroline giggled.

Together, they dove in.

*******

Just when it seemed the woods outside Bastogne could not get any colder, it did. The biting, frigid air was all the men could think about when they weren’t running for cover and dodging the shells. The cold haunted them like ghosts, as if the men they already lost didn’t torment them enough. The line only grew thinner. 

Communication was blocked since they were cut off beyond Bastogne. They couldn’t get any letters. Eugene Roe found himself missing Sybbie’s letters now more than ever. Word from her would have been as welcome as a bonfire, but like fire, it was impossible. He just hoped she didn’t think he’d forgotten her. 

Renee reminded him a lot of Sybbie. She had the same easy presence and natural ability to calm the people around her. And it was obvious how much she cared. Roe was torn about his feelings on the matter. On the one hand, Renee was a relief from everything else. On the other, she made him miss Sybbie all the more. Though he was not clear on what he and Sybbie were to each other, there was an undeniable connection. He felt something similar with Renee which also made him feel slightly guilty. As if he were being unfaithful to Sybbie somehow. 

He never had long to dwell on his feelings. The frequency of the shellings gave him no time to come to a conclusion about them. And when someone was in need, thoughts of both Sybbie and Renee were cast out of his mind so that he had only the task at hand in front of him. Sulfa, bandages, plasma, morphine, scissors. That all came first. 

Roe wasn’t the only one feeling a void. Dick missed Marigold a lot more than he thought he would. His mind wandered to her whenever there was a lull in the action. So, not often, but enough that he felt the ache in his chest. He felt the absence of her correspondence terribly. More than once, he started to write to her but gave it up. He had no idea what to tell her. The truth was too devastating, and he could not pretend that all was well. 

Joe Liebgott welcomed a reprieve from Victoria’s letters. Lately, she had written him mostly about parties and luncheons and other socialite events. While he liked that she didn’t complain about the war, it made him question their compatibility again. He would never fit in well with the aristocracy, and the way Victoria wrote, it was clear that her lifestyle made her happy. As much as she insisted she could live differently, he knew her well enough to realize that it would not keep her happy to live his way. In peace and quiet. With a humble house and just a few good friends around them. Victoria was much too bright and sociable for that. She belonged in her world. She thrived there, and the last thing he wanted to do was dull her shine. As long as he wasn’t getting her letters, he didn’t have to think about what was coming for them in the end. 

Speirs was going crazy without hearing from Caroline. His mind raced with concerns about the baby, her health, who was taking care of her, and the like. Being in the dark did not sit well with him at all. And to make matters worse, there was no one he could confide in. The only other person who knew about the baby was Winters, and he would not necessarily consider them friends. But Speirs also wondered if Winters was somehow able to get any news given his position with the battalion. 

On New Year’s Eve, Speirs could stand it no longer. In an act of desperation, he snuck away from his platoon and made his way down the line toward Easy Company’s position. He had to know if anyone had heard from the Crawleys.

Winters was just taking a sip of coffee when Speirs entered his makeshift tent. 

“Speirs,” Winters said in greeting. “How can I help you?”

“Captain, have you been able to get any letters?” Speirs asked, getting right to the point.

Dick sighed, understanding the other’s dilemma. If he were going to be a father, he too would struggle without hearing word. Unfortunately, there was nothing Dick could do.

“I’m sorry, we’re as cut off as you are,” he said. “We’re able to get telegrams about military business, but nothing personal has come through.”

Speirs looked away, biting at his lower lip anxiously. 

“Are you worried about Caroline and the child?” Dick asked. 

Speirs nodded. “It’s been weeks. I don’t know if she went home for the holidays or anything. If she’s healthy or happy or…”

He trailed off. Dick realized that Speirs was being...vulnerable. In his own way. 

“I’m sorry,” Dick said again. “I’ll see if we can maybe get in touch with George, but I can’t promise anything.”

“Yeah,” Speirs murmured. “Thanks, anyway.”

He turned to go. 

“Speirs,” Dick said. 

Speirs faced him. 

“I’m sure everything’s fine,” Dick said. 

Speirs only nodded before departing. He realized as he walked that he did feel better about it. Winters sounded sure. Even if he wasn’t, he’d pulled it off, and just that little reassurance had settled Speirs’ nerves. To have someone else tell him it was fine, someone who understood the full picture, made all the difference in the world. 

*******

“Nurse Branson, over here!” called the doctor. “New arrivals!” 

Sybbie sighed. She only had another hour before her shift was over and her body ached. It was her first day back after the holidays, and though she was glad of the rest, she felt it made her a bit lazy. Even so, she hurried over, and when she saw the men on the stretchers, her heart broke. Bill Guarnere and Joe Toye - two of the toughest in Easy Company - had each lost a leg. 

“Bill!” she cried, all weariness gone at the sight of them. “Joe! What - oh my goodness!” 

“Hey, Sybbie,” Bill returned softly. “They got us this time.”

She got to work helping the doctor remove the bandages, trying not to let her eyes water. These wounds were some of the worst she’d seen. On the bright side, it meant they would be sent home to the states. Only that could compensate for what they lost.

She cleared her throat. “How is everyone?”

Hopefully, talking to them would help distract them from any discomfort. 

“Freezin’ their asses off,” Joe said bitterly. 

“And pissed,” Bill added. 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she replied. “How’s the pain? Do you need anything?”

“I’m alright,” Bill said. 

“Me too,” Joe agreed. 

“We’ve got plenty so spare, so don’t hesitate to ask if it gets bad,” she told them. “How’s Eugene? I haven’t heard a word from him.”

“They can’t get mail to the line,” Bill explained. “He ain’t ignoring ya.”

That was good news. She had been wondering if she said something wrong and upset Gene somehow. Though it was distressing to learn how badly they were cut off. She wondered if Caroline knew.

“That’s a relief,” Sybbie said. 

She continued to talk to them as she and the doctors worked on their treatment and got the wounds properly dressed. As the fresh bandages went on, things calmed down. Sybbie had other patients, but when her shift was over, she didn’t go change. Instead, she went and took a seat between Bill and Joe’s beds. They were sleeping.

The sun had gone down so the only light in the room came from the lamp on the nightstand between them. It made the shadows on their faces sharp. Not at all like the bright young men she knew them to be.

“I wish I could say it’s good to see you,” she said quietly, so she wouldn’t disturb them. “I hate that it’s like this.”

A lump formed in her throat.

“It’s difficult to believe just a little more than a year ago, you had come to Downton for Christmas,” she said sadly. “So much has changed.”

She looked at Bill’s missing limb and recalled the night she and the girls met Easy Company for the first time. She danced with him that night. He made her laugh through the whole song. She danced with Joe later, she remembered as she turned and looked at him. He was a strong lead and taught her a few lifts. Her eyes traveled to their faces. Would they ever dance again? 

She ran through a list in her mind of the men that night, and all the nights afterward, and tried to put together who was still alive, who was wounded, and who was killed. The first category was so small now. It made her want to break down right there, but it would be terribly inappropriate in front of them, even if they were asleep. 

“I feel as if all the men I’ve ever danced with are gone,” she said softly. 

It was true. Though Bill and Joe were still alive, they were not the men she met that night. They would never be those men again. The war had taken them. She closed her eyes and a tear rolled down her cheek. She opened her eyes again and forced a smile.

“I’m going to look after you both,” she promised those slumbering soldiers. “Sleep well.”

With that, she left the hospital. She wrote to Gene when she got back to her flat that Joe and Bill were in her care, so they didn’t have to worry. Even if he didn’t get the letter until much later, at least he would know his men had a friend.


End file.
